Station X, 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 15-21

by G. McLeod Winsor
First published in 1919
Published in Amazing Stories, September 1926, pp. 528-555.

INTRODUCTION. The Martian is triumphant. Despite all vigilance, despite all precautions, the Martians have succeeded in capturing a terrestrial warship. The fate of the world now lies in the balance. Panic reigns over the entire world because nothing is impossible to the Martians. Will they take hold of humanity and force it to commit wholesale suicide as they did with the Lunarians? What sort of new and titanic warfare will they wage on the terrestrials? And can the distant Venerians now be of any assistance? Or will Professor Rudge discover a way to frustrate the plans of the cunning invaders?

All this and more will be told in the concluding chapters of Station X, and we know that you will not lay the story down until you have read the hair-raising conclusion.

WHAT WENT BEFORE. Alan Macrae, simple, uneducated, yet a skillful radio operator, is sent as operator to a secret radio station, operated by the British Government, known as Station X, on an island in the Pacific. He accepts the offer because it brings him nearer to the day when he and May Treherne, the heroine, can be married. He goes with peculiar forebodings of impending, intangible dangers. Lt. Wilson, very well educated and very intolerant of Macrae’s educational shortcomings, and Ling, the Chinese cook and caretaker, complete the party to remain on the island, and incidentally the latter serves as the “butt” for Lt. Wilson’s ill-temper. Soon Lt. Wilson and the Chinaman are found, lying dead, apparently murdered by each other. Macrae falls under the influence of an inhabitant of Venus, who is known in this story as a “Venerian,” and whose voice comes to him over the radio, telling all kinds of interesting things about the inhabitants of Venus, giving him a great deal of scientific information, although Macrae understands nothing of the greater part of it.

Beause London has received no answer from Station X for three days, the Sagitta, with a crew of investigators and relief, is despatched to the island and arrives to find Macrae lying on the floor apparently dead, still wearing the ear set.

The doctor, thinking that Macrae may be suffering from catalepsy rather than that he is dead, takes him back to London on the Sagitta. Macrae recovers on the boat and tells a weird tale, which, however, coincides perfectly with his shorthand notes of both his report and of the mysterious messages, and with his diary.

When they arrive in London, the government starts an investigation. The plot thickens; a great scientist, Professor Rudge, is called into the consultation; the British cabinet and Navy Department are thrown into utter confusion. Rudge goes to Station X. Hypnotism transmitted from the planet Venus begins to take part in the drama; radio communication with Venus is carried on and the friendly Venerians give warning that Mars intends disaster to the earth. Martians by hypnotism get possession of Macrae’s soul and mind and Rudge narrowly escapes the same fate. They even think of killing Macrae, whom they regard now as a Martian, no longer as a human being. He possesses the power of hypnotizing others to be Martians. There is now a personal contest between Macrae and Rudge, and at this point of complication the second installment ends. The conclusion is here before you and a wonderful climax is reached.

15. Mr. Mansfield Alarmed

The morning after his talk with Professor Rudge Mr. Mansfield was astir before his usual hour, after a bad night. The mystery of Station X would not be banished. He tried to persuade himself that the anxiety he felt was due to the unexplained silence of the station, apart from anything Professor Rudge had told him. He strove to convince himself that the latter’s utterances were too wildly extravagant for acceptance.

Long accustomed to listen to extravagant statements, both in the House and elsewhere, he had learnt that, although they may have a certain force for the moment, due to the eloquence with which they have been urged, their effect is brief.

Yet here was a typical example, that, to his surprise, had taken an opposite course. Professor Rudge had spoken with his customary force, so there was nothing surprising if his narrative had for the moment carried his listener with him. The effect ought gradually to have faded, but it had not.

What was then the special quality in this account that caused it to obtrude itself upon his thoughts? Not its lack of extravagance, he told himself. Why, during the night, had it haunted him?

Curiously enough, the more it haunted him the less extravagant it seemed. That characteristic seemed to peel off, and what remained was alarming. It began to dawn upon him that what he had described to himself as extravagant might be better defined as unprecedented, and that the two things are different.

During the hours of darkness Mr. Mansfield made progress toward the truth. He did not, however, make sufficient progress to be prepared to admit it. This morning he had an appointment with the First Sea Lord at the Admiralty, and he had asked Sir John Sarkby, the Home Secretary and his most intimate friend in the Cabinet, to be also present.

He had already ascertained that it was still impossible to get any reply from Station X.

Too early for the appointment, he strolled in St. Jame’s Park, and soon he found his spirits rising in response to the beauty of the morning. Great is the man whose judgment is not at all affected by his physical surroundings. Mr. Mansfield was clever, but not great. He was a strict guardian of his personal dignity, and keenly susceptible to ridicule. He looked at the cheerful sky, at the green of the park, the waterfowl, the chattering sparrows. He asked himself, if, after all, the fears that had oppressed him during the night were not chimerical. The more they looked so to him, the more ill at ease he became, the more distasteful seemed the coming interview.

He tried to convince himself that the sole business in hand was the silence of Station X, and the report from Hughes that had preceded it.

But wriggle as he might he could not deceive himself as to his duty. He must give Professor Rudge’s version of the present position at the station, and his opinion of the awful consequences that might follow. And—here was the difficult part—he must admit that he was himself to some extent troubled about it. It was an unpleasant thing to do before a man like Admiral Benson.

Suddenly an idea occurred to him, and he looked at his watch. There would be time. He made for the Mall, and hailed a taxi.

He looked on it as an inspiration that he should have just remembered that Professor McFaden of Edinburgh was now in London. McFaden rivaled Rudge’s eminence in the scientific world. Each had his special set of admirers, but practically all regarded them as the two greatest men in their particular sphere. Rudge led in discovery; McFaden was his equal in knowledge, and the more orthodox. There was not supposed to be overmuch love lost between them.

Professor McFaden was surprised to receive so important a visitor just as he was finishing breakfast.

“I hope,” said Mansfield, “an old friend will excuse this lack of ceremony; but I want you to come back with me to the Admiralty. Can you manage it?”

“Certainly,” said McFaden; “but what’s it all about?”

“You know that Rudge discovered a new method of radio of so powerful a nature that it made radio telephony over worldwide distances possible?”

“I am not denying that the thing stands to his credit,” said McFaden, speaking with a decided Scotch accent.

“You were one of the very few to whom this method was communicated,” said Mansfield. “I myself am ignorant of the method, but that does not matter. It exists, and we hope and believe is not known to any foreign Power. For naval purposes a very powerful installation, far surpassing all others, exists in the Pacific, and Rudge is now there.”

“Rudge there!” said McFaden, greatly surprised. “I knew he was away, but man, why on earth is he wandering the Pacific?”

Mansfield hesitated. “I cannot answer that question now,” he said. “I shall have to leave it for the meeting.”

“Why do you want me there?” asked McFaden.

“Well,” said Mansfield, “the reason is this. We have received a report from Rudge that is astounding beyond all precedent. It requires scientific knowledge to examine it. I want your support. I picture myself speaking of it before Admiral Benson, to whom the reasoning will be simply unintelligible. I am not saying that Rudge is not mistaken. If, when you have heard the report, you say he is, you relieve me of a world of responsibility. What I want to secure is that Rudge shall not be set aside by mere ignorance.”

“Well, it’s mysterious enough, I’ll grant,” said McFaden, with a smile, as they walked out into the hall and he picked up his hat and stick. “Let us be off.”

Views of the Admiralty

Arrived at the Admiralty, they went to Mr. Mansfield’s room. Although it still wanted a few minutes to the appointed hour, the other two men were there.

Mr. Mansfield introduced Professor McFaden, and explained that in consequence of the nature of the communication he had to make, he considered that some one with ability to judge of its scientific value should be present.

“We are here, I believe,” said Admiral Benson, “because we have lost touch with Station X, and to decide without further delay”—he glared at Mr. Mansfield and Sir John Sarkby—“what is to be done about it.”

“Exactly,” began Mr. Mansfield, “and—”

“As it is perfectly obvious,” broke in the Admiral, “that the one thing to do is to send and find out what’s the matter, our decision should be soon arrived at.”

“No doubt,” resumed Mr. Mansfield, “and I anticipate that your view will not be disputed. This affair, is, however, complicated with another matter which cannot be so promptly disposed of.”

There was a pronounced snort from the Admiral, who looked at his watch. Mr. Mansfield was palpably ill at ease.

“I am afraid,” he said, with quiet dignity, “I shall have to claim a certain amount of your time. I have here a report from Professor Rudge as given me by radio from Station X, where he now is.”

“And never ought to have been,” growled the Admiral. “What business has a schoolman at a naval station?”

The contemptuous tone annoyed Professor McFaden.

“Man,” said he, nowise impressed by the Admiral’s manner, “do you not know that but for the schoolman, as you call him, the naval station would never have existed?”

Admiral Benson merely growled.

The Home Secretary was beginning to enjoy himself. He liked being amused.

Mr. Mansfield then proceeded to tell the story from the beginning.

An hour had elapsed before he concluded. Admiral Benson showed the greatest impatience, and, as the nature of the subject became apparent to him, interrupted more than once. McFaden sat silent and inscrutable, slowly twirling his thumbs, his eyes on the floor. The Home Secretary seemed interested, but did not volunteer any remark.

“And now gentlemen,” Mr. Mansfield concluded, “you know as much of it as I do. I have called this informal meeting because something has to be done at once. The simple question is, whether a cruiser is to be despatched to Station X, or other precautionary measures taken pending further news. I ask you, Professor McFaden, after hearing Professor Rudge’s report and knowing the silence that has so strangely ensued, if you think it desirable to do so.”

“I see no reason,” said McFaden, “for not doing so.”

“And I say the boat ought to have been hundreds of miles on her course by now,” said Admiral Benson.

“And you?” said Mansfield, turning to the Home Secretary.

“You see,” said Sir John Sarkby, with his peculiar smile, “I do not know anything about naval matters!”

“You know precisely as much about them as I do!” said Mansfield.

Admiral Benson’s look gave clear expression to his own view of civilian heads of service departments.

“Well, sending another cruiser,” said Sir John, “seems the obvious thing to do. I am sorry about poor Rudge.”

The meeting broke up with the decision to send a fast cruiser, and it was left in the hands of Admiral Benson to say from where she should be sent.

He detached the powerful battle cruiser Sea Lion from the China fleet for the purpose. Whether on account of her armament or her tremendous speed he did not say.

Many of the thousands who passed threw a glance at the building, and above it at the aerials of the mysterious radio. Fortunately none knew that from that installation a fateful message had just flown, or the terrible consequences that were destined to result from it.

Mr. Mansfield left the Admiralty with Professor McFaden. “I don’t know why,” he said, “but in my heart I am not really quite easy about this. Why are you in favor of sending this cruiser?”

“Partly because I do not see in any case why a cruiser should not be sent. And I also fear there can be little doubt that Rudge is quite insane on this subject. He always had a weakness for the metaphysical, and this Macrae business hit him on his vulnerable spot. He is now as mad as a hatter, but may not appear so. I know him. He may be quite capable of getting over the naval captain of that cruiser. It looks to me as if he has done so.”

“Do you think then,” said Mr. Mansfield, “that Captain Evered’s silence as well as that of Station X is simply attributable to Rudge’s insane influence? What about Macrae’s experience?”

“With respect to Macrae,” said McFaden, “you were not very clear, but I came to the conclusion that investigation would show that everything could be traced to Rudge. From your first question, I do think so. For with all working parts in duplicate, a radio station is practically immune from such long interruption to the service, as far as the installation is concerned. We have therefore to deal with the personnel, friend or foe. In the absence of war, the foe is eliminated. This brings us to the resident staff, Rudge and his companion, and the cruiser. If you ask who of these is responsible for the interruption, I say, without hesitation, Rudge.”

“Your logic,” said Mr. Mansfield, “seems unanswerable. Only now be equally convincing as to his insanity, and I shall be eternally grateful to you.”

“That,” said McFaden, “can only be a matter of opinion.”

“Is it not possible,” said Mr. Mansfield, “that, though sane, he is being in some way himself deceived?”

“Deceived! Yes,” said McFaden, “but only because he is a monomaniac on this subject. On any other he is possibly still sane enough. I will say this for him, although we have not always agreed: there is not a cleverer investigator, or, leaving out his one weakness, a man more difficult to deceive than Rudge.”

“Good!” said Mansfield. “Your position is now clear to me. You believe that Station X, together with the Sagitta, is now in the hands of a monomaniac, and for that reason advised the despatch of another cruiser.”

“Precisely,” said McFaden; “and now I will ask you to lend me the whole dossier of the Macrae affair. Your exposition of it could not always be quite followed. I have already said what I expect to find.”

“And if you do not find it?”

“Then,” said McFaden, “I will recall what I have said of friend Rudge.”

“But,” said Mr. Mansfield, “it will be too late to recall the cruiser!”

“Not at all,” said the cool Scot. “It will be a good few hours before she is beyond the radio.”

“I could not contemplate the cruiser’s recall now she is well under way,” said Mr. Mansfield.

“And burning coal, no doubt, at a great rate,” said McFaden, quite coolly. “A thousand to one she is right. But I have it in mind to study the papers, which I shall do at once, and see you again if my opinion of it is changed.”

“Would it not have been better,” said Mr. Mansfield, rather stiffly, “to have studied the documents before the order was given?”

“The chance is so very small,” said McFaden. “There is just a point or two that wants clearing up. No doubt they will be clear enough when I can give the matter quiet attention. It difficult to give anything quiet attention with that stormy petrel Benson within hail.”

Mr. Mansfield thought that perhaps McFaden was a little frightened of Admiral Benson, as he was himself. He assumed that the recall of the Sea Lion was very unlikely. He knew that warships of that description were not sent to and fro while a professor studied a bundle of documents. He saw, however, that McFaden was not to be in the least impressed by such a consideration.

The papers were given to Professor McFaden, and by 11 o’clock he was busily engaged with them in his own study.

Feeling convinced now that McFaden’s solution was the correct one, that Admiral Benson was placated for the moment and that the right thing had been done, Mr. Mansfield sighed his relief and gave himself up to his secretary and the day’s correspondence.

At 3 o’clock in the afternoon he was surprised to hear that Professor McFaden was asking for an interview.

“Show him up immediately,” he told the attendant.

Professor McFaden was nearer appearing excited than ever before in his life. He plunged at once into his subject.

“I have been very carefully through these papers,” he said. “I tell you at once, the thing amazes me. My theory would explain Rudge fine, but man, it doesn’t explain Macrae. The point you failed to make clear and left open is that before Macrae’s account was written, he and Rudge had not met, nor did they know of one another’s existence. That alters the whole aspect of the evidence. The assumption on which my reasoning was based goes from under me.”

“Have you reversed your opinion, then?” asked Mr. Mansfield.

“I will tell you the opinion I have now formed. Meanwhile, I take it there is plenty of time to recall the Sea Lion, should you desire it.”

“I shall want to hear remarkably solid reasons first,” said the First Lord. Nevertheless, he rang the bell and sent to inquire how long Hong Kong would be in touch by wireless with that warship.

He was told there would still be several hours.

“I will again ask you the question I put to you this morning,” said Mr. Mansfield. “Do you believe that there has been interplanetary communication?”

“When you asked me that question before,” said McFaden, “I was convinced that on probing the affair I should find it rested on Rudge’s evidence, and I said, No. I have now probed it. I find that Rudge can be eliminated, and I say, I do not know!”

“On what do you rest your opinions now?”

“On what happened to the operator, and the circumstances in which it happened. Scientifically the evidence is very strong.”

“I may gather then,” said Mr. Mansfield, “that you do not consider a radio signal from a neighboring planet scientifically impossible?”

“Hitherto I have always held it to be practically impossible,” said McFaden.

“I said scientifically,” persisted Mr. Mansfield.

“Seeing that the required medium for it undoubtedly exists all the way, one might hesitate at such a statement.”

“Now tell me what evidence you have seen in the documents that I did not mention,” said Mr. Mansfield, leaning forward, the morning’s anxiety redoubled.

“I have already said there is the fact that Macrae’s papers were all written before he met Rudge. For the rest, I will deal with two points. First, Macrae gave what he said was the Venerian’s description of a telescope. As we are dealing only with evidence, we need say nothing of its merits or demerits. We have the fact that it describes an instrument such as does not exist on earth, and the description requires scientific knowledge that Macrae could not possibly possess.”

“That,” said Mr. Mansfield, “is certainly strong evidence.”

“The second point,” said McFaden, “is even stronger. A date was put in his head, for his future return to the island. I am quite satisfied that neither Rudge nor any man else gave him that date. It turns out to be the exact day of the conjunction of Mars. This does not happen so often that it could be hit on by chance. It would be the day chosen according to his story, and only according to that. Apart from it, the date would have no meaning. Can you not see that such evidence is significant?”

“It is irresistible,” cried Mr. Mansfield, “and includes not only the Venerian, but the Martian also!”

“Logically, it does,” said McFaden.

“Then do you still think the Sea Lion ought to have been sent before we learn the position at Station X?”

“There is still nothing before us to indicate any danger in sending the cruiser to the station,” said McFaden. “It might perhaps have been left awhile.”

Professor McFaden was half regretful that he had given such unqualified acquiescence to the Sea Lion’s despatch, but he refrained from saying so.

“Benson would make an awful row,” mused Mr. Mansfield. For a minute or two he was undecided. At length he said, “I have made up my mind what to do. Tomorrow there will be a Cabinet Council. The decision shall be left to it. I will send instructions to the Sea Lion to go only so far on her way as will not take her out of touch with Hong Kong, and await orders there.”

This he ordered to be done, in spite of Admiral Benson’s protests. Later in the afternoon a cable was received from Hong Kong that something was wrong with the radio, and no message could be sent to the Sea Lion or anywhere else.

At the same time his secretary mentioned that there was something wrong with the Admiralty radio. Struck by this coincidence, Mr. Mansfield went himself to investigate, and was told that no message could be heard in consequence of what appeared to be some new kind of electric storm.

He even put on the receivers himself, and heard a continuous babel of inarticulate sounds—loud, distracting, emanating from no one could tell where. It rendered anything in the nature of radio telephony, or even ordinary radio telegraphy quite impossible.

16. The Prime Minister Capitulates

That evening Mr. Mansfield called on his friend the Home Secretary.

“This thing is getting too much for me, Sarkby,” he said. “I begin to think that events are moving fast, but what they are, why they are, or who is pulling the strings and from where, are questions to which there seems no present answers.”

“You mean the Rudge business,” said Sir John.

“Yes; but since the meeting McFaden has read all the details of the affair from the beginning. I had to leave out many details this morning, and it seems that among them were things that were important as evidence. McFaden is not the confident man he was. He came to me immediately after he had digested all the facts.”

“What about the Sea Lion?” asked Sarkby, quickly.

“Yes: among other things he seemed more than willing for her to be recalled, although not professing to see any particular reason for it.”

“What in particular weighs on your mind?”

“It’s the cumulative effect of the evidences that there may be truth in what Rudge said. I was at the time impressed by him, but reflection enabled me partially to throw off the effect, owing to the unprecedented nature of his statements.”

“Well,” said Sarkby, “what alters that?”

“This,” said Mansfield—”that the Sagitta is lost to us, and Station X inexplicably silent, are facts, and they seem to strengthen Rudge’s story. Now, on the evidence, of which he must be a far better judge than you or I, even McFaden is on the wriggle. And on the top of it, there is this magnetic radio storm, or whatever it is. I begin to think it is all connected.”

“Well, for my part,” said Sarkby, lighting a cigar, “I am not taking any of this story. The whole thing is curious, I admit. But see what miraculous coincidences do happen. There will come along some simple explanation of it all. Don’t let it get on your nerves, old chap. Let’s talk about it tomorrow at the Cabinet Meeting, and so get rid of individual responsibility.”

“But I would rather, if it could have been avoided, that it didn’t come before the Cabinet.”

“Why not?”

“I was going to bring it up, more particularly as to the Sea Lion going to Station X or not. That being taken out of our hands, what is the good? It ought to be kept secret for the present.”

“Blasphemer! Do you insinuate that secret things may not come before the whole Cabinet?” said Sir John, with twinkling eyes.

“You know perfectly well, Sarkby,” said Mansfield, “there are one or two among us before whom it would not be safe to mention that the cat had kittens, if it were important to keep it from the papers.”

“Well, Mansfield, go your way,” said Sarkby.

“My way is now straight to No. 10,” said Mansfield. “I will explain the thing as well as I can to the Chief, and try and persuade him to have it up before a Committee of the Cabinet only. I hope I shall find him in.”

“Hope you will,” said Sir John; and it came about that the matter of Station X was not brought before the Cabinet.

In the course of the day Admiral Benson woke a few echoes at the Admiralty. Someone, possibly with a certain humor, suggested to him that he should try what he could do at the radio, as nobody else could make himself heard. He took the suggestion, went up to the radio room, and put on the receivers.

But did not open his mouth. His face became a study of surprise and bewilderment. Presently he gently put the receivers on the table.

“Well!” he said. “Of all the unqualified—” Admiral Benson’s idiom was notorious at the Admiralty.

In the afternoon an informal meeting took place, at the Prime Minister’s, and the Station X affair was fully discussed. The Prime Minister’s attitude seemed to coincide with that of the Home Secretary, without being quite so positive. He thought the present mystery would soon clear itself up, either by the recovery of the radio and news from Station X, or the arrival of the Sagitta somewhere with a satisfactory explanation, probably a very simple one.

Mr. Mansfield saw that it would be useless for him to say more, and it was therefore decided with apparent unanimity to let things take their course until something fresh happened, and in view of the secrecy of the station, on no account to allow any alarmist story to get to the Press.

It was easy to make these plans, but when several people are concerned it is easy for whispers to get about. So far as the “radio storm,” as it somehow got to be called, was concerned, there was of course nothing secret about that. The state of things was soon ascertained to be worldwide. Radio communication had entirely ceased.

It became the general topic of conversation. Every day columns of the papers were full of it. When it was found, as day followed day, that the phenomenon continued, the savants of all nations took up the investigation by every means that their science could suggest.

Meanwhile, in letters to the Press, a great many fantastic explanations were put before a bewildered public. Most of the amateurs decided that the cause was electric. The less they knew about electricity the more they used that hard-worked word. One man suggested that it was a manifestation of the Almighty’s anger with the world “for its excessive secularly.”

It was suggested that any peculiar behavior of the aurora in polar regions should be studied. Even the zodiacal light was not unsuspected. One pessimist surmised that it indicated a disturbance of the ether by some cometary or other body of high electric charge approaching from outer space with frightful speed, coming, very possibly, straight for us, and that the escape of our globe in the circumstances was problematical indeed.

His idea caused some amusement, but if he had been capable of interpreting his dream in terms of the spirit instead of terms of matter, he would not have been so very wide of the truth.

While the public was thus occupied with conjecture, there were two groups deeply interested, the scientists and the politicians. The latter in more than one country were asking themselves if this new thing could be of other than human origin, and if of human origin, what it might portend.

The situation in Europe was delicate, and such a thing as the universal interruption of radio communication caused suspicion. Each of the Great Powers was suspected by the others. A great deal of secret service money was spent without result. Still the days passed during which there was not one moment of the 24 hours when the radio receivers were not full of this extraordinary and meaningless din.

The scientific world was entreated by the governments to spare no labor and no expense in their efforts to find out the cause—how, where, and if possible, why, it was being done.

Whether it was because the British Empire is wider flung than others, or because with envious rivals we are supposed to be masters in the art of grab, it became whispered that England was emitting this impediment to communication for some sinister reason of her own.

The echo of this soon found its way to the House of Commons, and was persistently voiced by the peculiar people there whose delight it is to snipe the front bench.

The Prime Minister for the most part answered the questions, and, being a master of sarcasm, gave his questioners full measure in his replies. But secretly he was uneasy. He knew the Government was anything but firmly seated, that a very little additional unpopularity in the House would topple it over; that many members, while maintaining silence, were suspecting it of being up to some folly respecting this mystery.

This was aggravated by Professor Rudge’s name becoming mixed up with it. All the world at once wanted to hear him on the subject, and, needless to say, all the papers at once published the fact that he could not be found.

The Prime Minister felt the awkwardness of his very obvious dilemma. He could neither tell what he knew of Rudge’s absence without being made to tell much that he was determined not to tell, nor produce him.

It was a very short time after that Professor Rudge relieved the tension of the situation by producing himself, and things began to move swiftly. Before any one knew where they were, the Sagitta was at Falmouth, and Professor Rudge and Captain Evered in London.

The Professor broke his journey for a few hours at Plymouth to see May Treherne. On his journey home he had been wondering how he would manage about secretarial assistance. He knew of no one just fitted for the occasion. The secrecy imposed seemed of itself sufficient to preclude any idea of a confidant. Suddenly Miss Treherne’s name occurred to him as an inspiration. He recalled her personality, her brisk cheerfulness, her energy and quick intelligence, her courage and common sense. He remembered how devoted she had been to Macrae.

He reflected that it might be put to his door that Macrae was lost to her, for if it had not been for him, Macrae would never have had the opportunity of returning to Station X.

Macrae was doubtless “dead,” as we use the word, pushed before his time beyond the veil, while strange to say, his body, the mortal part, was not dead, but animated by a fierce and powerful spirit now fighting, not against a man, but against humanity.

Professor Rudge found May Treherne at her old address. She, too, it appeared, was ready to reproach herself for the efforts she had made to infuse enthusiasm and ambition into Macrae, when his own prophetic warning of coming disaster held him back.

She listened to all Professor Rudge felt he could tell her, accepted his proposal, gasped a little at the handsome salary he suggested, and walked with him to the station to catch the London mail, promising to follow in a day or two.

On Professor Rudge’s arrival in town he went straight to his house in Great Queen Street, where he lived with a sister, considerably his senior, and impressed with the conviction that her sole mission in life was to look after her wonderful brother. A simple, kindly soul, thoroughly competent to fill the office she had assumed, she would herself have laughed at the accusation of being possessed of intellect.

Professor Rudge went home, but he had no thought of rest. Miss Rudge was troubled at the signs of worry that she instantly detected in him, but she waited with feminine tact to learn what the trouble was. She seized upon the subject of his clothes and wanted to know how he dared scandalize the neighborhood by appearing in such clothes, such linen.

Within an hour he escaped, “decent and respectable,” he was told, and certainly with the best meal he had eaten since he had left home.

Calling a taxi, he drove straight to Mr. Mansfield’s house.

Mr. Mansfield was no less pleased than surprised when Professor Rudge was announced. At last he would learn something to lighten the darkness in which he seemed to be groping. At last there was someone to whom he could refer his colleagues, and on whom he might throw responsibility.

“This is a great surprise,” he said, as the Professor entered. “I did not anticipate seeing you today. When the Sagitta was signaled I was told you were on board.”

“Have you seen Captain Evered?” asked Rudge.

“Not yet,” was the reply. “He is no doubt finding out what is going to happen to him. Benson is furious with all things, from etheric interruptions to recalcitrant captains. It will mean court-martial and half-pay for Evered, I fear.”

“We shall see,” said Professor Budge quietly. “I have come here at once, Mr. Mansfield, because the matter before us and the world must suffer no delay. There are details of the position here of which I am ignorant, and on which you can enlighten me.”

“Everything I know is quite at your disposal, but I feel more in need of enlightenment myself than qualified to spread it,” said Mansfield, with a smile.

“I know, of course, about the interruption to the radio,” said Rudge; “but, partly in consequence of that, I know nothing else—the Government’s opinion, popular information, or measures taken or proposed regarding the affair of Station X. I want you to bring me up to date in these things.”

Mr. Mansfield proceeded to enlighten his visitor as to the occurrences in London and Europe since Station X had been cut off from the rest of the world.

Professor Rudge was not surprised at what he heard; he had expected it. It proved to him that any chance that remained for mankind on this planet depended on himself and, under Providence, himself alone.

“When,” he asked, “will be the next Cabinet Council?”

“This day week,” said Mr. Mansfield.

“There must,” said Rudge, “be one tomorrow morning early.”

“There will certainly not be a meeting of the Cabinet tomorrow, early or late,” was the dry official rejoinder. Mr. Mansfield did not like Professor Rudge’s “must,” or his manner.

The Professor looked at Mr. Mansfield for a moment without speaking.

“Will you,” he asked, “come with me now to see the Prime Minister?”

“I do not think Lord Saxville would be able to receive you at present,” was the reply.

“He will receive me all right,” said Professor Rudge grimly.

Mr. Mansfield stiffened still more.

“I regret,” he said, “that I am unable to go with you just at present.”

“Well, good-bye, Mr. Mansfield,” said Professor Rudge, with imperturbable good humor, as he rose to go. “Thank you for all the information you have given me. I wanted to know just how matters were before seeing Lord Saxville. We shall meet again tomorrow.”

After Professor Rudge had taken his leave, Mr. Mansfield remembered the many things he had wanted to ask him about, and that he had learnt nothing.

If Professor Rudge’s interview with the First Lord had been lacking in sympathy, that with the Prime Minister was stormy.

No one had ever seen the Professor in this humor before. Today he was not stopping to plead or to explain: he was a battering ram.

At No. 10 he was at first refused an interview. Without wasting time he wrote a note and asked to have it taken to Lord Saxville. His name at least procured this service. The note did the rest.

He was shown into the waiting room, from which a few minutes later he was conducted to a room where Lord Saxville was seated at a table covered with papers.

“So, Mr. Rudge,” began the Prime Minister, in an even voice, “you threaten me!”

“I dare anything at present,” said Professor Rudge, looking straight at Lord Saxville. “There is too much at stake today for the ordinary rules to obtain. I have learnt from Mr. Mansfield that you and the Government know my opinion respecting the present position at Station X and its danger. I know that that opinion is not generally accepted among you. It is vital that it should be, and measures must be taken without delay. I ask that the Cabinet should meet tomorrow, early, and that Captain Evered, of the Sagitta, and the most eminent men of science now in London, or within reach, shall be present; furthermore, that I shall have an opportunity of laying my opinion before the meeting, with all the facts, vouchers, evidence that I shall be able to produce in support of it.”

“I’m afraid it is impossible,” said Lord Saxville coldly.

“Then you refuse?” said Professor Rudge.

“I’m afraid it is impossible.”

“You have read my note?” asked the Professor.

“I have.”

“And still you refuse?”

“I repeat your request is impossible,” said Lord Saxville. “I prefer not to refer to the threat in your note.”

“Will the meeting be held?” persisted the Professor.

“It will certainly not!”

“Then my threat, as you describe it, will be carried out,” said Professor Rudge.

Assuming his haughtiest attitude, the Prime Minister intimated that the interview was ended, and left the room.

Feeling sanguine about the meeting on the morrow, Professor Rudge left Downing Street. He knew Lord Saxville’s fear of the Press, and Professor Rudge’s threat of publicity had impressed him. He was not mistaken.

He had been at home about three hours when a messenger came from Mr. Mansfield to say that the Prime Minister had communicated with him on the subject in which Professor Rudge was interested, and that while a Cabinet Meeting in the ordinary sense could not be held tomorrow, it was possible that an informal meeting of some members of the Government might take place, to hear Professor Rudge; and would he now say who were the men of science he desired should be present, so that they might be communicated with.

“So!” thought Rudge. “My lord capitulates. A bitter pill!”

With infinite tact, he wrote a letter of thanks to Lord Saxville, at the same time apologizing for the rather unceremonious manner in which he had descended upon him, and any heat he might have displayed.

The names on the list that Professor Rudge prepared were not chosen because they were men with whom he was in most general agreement, or men that he thought he could most easily influence. His worst enemy could not deny that it would have been impossible to find six more distinguished scientists in the country. Later, this fact greatly impressed Lord Saxville.

They were all personally known to Professor Rudge, and as, next day, he entered the room where the meeting was to be held, he noticed that they were all present. Knowing well that a certain branch of his past investigations had brought him some sharp criticism in other days, he could not help an inward smile. “They think they have me now!” he thought.

The Prime Minister was not the first to speak. Sir John Sarkby had evidently been delegated to introduce the subject of the meeting and act as the principal speaker.

In his suavest manner he explained that “Professor Rudge had requested the Government to give him an opportunity of bringing before them and his brother scientists a subject that he considered of the greatest and most urgent importance in regard to the interests of the State, and in fact, the world.

“The Prime Minister,” he continued, evidently addressing his remarks to the scientists present, “and some other members of the Cabinet had already heard an outline of the subject to be dealt with. While they did not profess to follow Professor Rudge in all the opinions he advanced, yet in view of the eminence of the man and the importance of the subject, if he should be right, Lord Saxville, with characteristic open-mindedness and liberality, had decided that Professor Rudge should have his opportunity to place before them his opinions on certain recent events, and the grounds on which he held those opinions. It was gratifying to him and his colleagues to see present six other men in the first rank of science ready to support a brother savant so far”—Sir John Sarkby was especially suave here, and his voice rose half a note—”as they were able to endorse his conclusions.”

Professor Rudge was a clear thinker gifted with the faculty of lucid exposition. During his voyage to England he had prepared himself for this moment. Every voucher for what he was about to say was to his hand. Not the smallest point that could bear for or against his argument would be allowed to escape his attention.

As he rose he was fully conscious of the keen intellects present and of the fact that if there was the smallest flaw in his armour of proof, it would be seized on with avidity. He knew that these six were not only the most critical, competent and dangerous, but actually, in the last resort, the only part of his audience that mattered. He knew that if he carried them, he carried the whole world of science, and with that backing he could defy any Government.

To these therefore he mentally addressed himself and cast the politician temporarily from his thoughts. First, however, he paid a tribute to Lord Saxville’s promptness in according to what many men in his position would have regarded as an unreasonable request. Lord Saxville bowed slightly in acknowledgment of this peace offering.

In the course of his speech Professor Rudge read many papers, with the exception of Macrae’s diary, mostly official; but it was chiefly with his extempore eloquence that for nearly three hours he held his audience. All remained tensely eager to hear every word, even where the greater number of them were, through lack of knowledge, out of their depth and unable to follow the argument.

When he finally sat down there was a minute’s silence, during which the politicians present, without consulting each other, all felt that it would be best to wait for a lead from the scientific bench.

Professor McFaden was the first to speak.

“Rudge, man,” he said, from where he sat, and there was genuine admiration in the Sotchman’s tone, “we all knew you had the gift of speech, but you have surpassed yourself. And I’m not surprised at it, for ye certainly had the greatest theme any professor ever dealt with.”

“Thank you, McFaden,” said Professor Rudge, speaking a trifle hoarsely after his effort, “but let us not waste a moment over compliment. I want judgment.”

“No doubt,” said the Scot, “and ye shall have it. For the present we all doubtless want to consider the matter. I can say it wears a very different aspect to what it did before I heard you.”

He rose to his feet, and evidently considered that so far as he was concerned the meeting was over. It was clear that what a mere Prime Minister might have to say had little interest for him.

Lord Saxville, however, while seeing that little more could be done at the moment, had a word to say before the meeting broke up.

“Professor Rudge,” he said, “I wish to say to you, in the presence of all here, that after hearing you I think you were quite justified in desiring this meeting, and to some extent”—there was a just perceptible hesitation between his words that indicated they were being chosen with some care—“in the steps you took to procure it. Without expressing any opinion before further consultation, and especially before learning the views of these gentlemen present, who are best qualified to judge of its many scientific points, I candidly admit that you now appear to me to have a much stronger case than I had dreamt of. For any abruptness in my manner at our last interview I express my regret.”

And so the meeting broke up.

17. Professor Rudge’s Ultimatum

Through the action of Admiral Benson, Captain Evened was not present at the meeting to hear Professor Rudge, who had desired his presence so that he might be there to answer questions on matters of fact within his knowledge. His absence made no difference, however, as the need of additional testimony was not felt by anyone.

As soon as the meeting was over, Professor Rudge joined Mr. Mansfield and spoke of the position of Captain Evered.

“What,” he added, “is now going to be done?”

“A court-martial,” said Mansfield. “You must see that is inevitable. Benson wants his head on a charger at once. I am afraid his connection with the Service is over. If he is put on half-pay he will be extremely lucky.”

“Of course,” said Professor Rudge, “you will readily understand that holding the opinion I do, I wish to save Captain Evered from what must appear to me an act of great injustice. So far from thinking him worthy of punishment, I am convinced that his action alone saved the situation in so far as it has been saved, and but for him we should not be here now.”

“Of course I quite see that,” said Mr. Mansfield.

“If, after hearing me,” said Rudge, “you now hold my views, you must feel the same. Whether that is the case or not, I do not ask, but I do ask you as First Lord to stop this court-martial, at least for the present.”

“You see,” said Mr. Mansfield, “there are regular rules for all such cases. My connection with either of the services is short, and I know very little of such procedures. Of course I can see that Evered’s breach is glaring. And then Benson is such an unpleasant man to interfere with.”

“But if it were a matter of policy?”

“That,” said Mr. Mansfield, “would be a different matter. Then Benson’s wishes could be set aside.”

“Well,” said Rudge, “I consider it is. My statement is now before you and the other members of the Government, and a decision on it one way or the other must be come to without delay. Is it policy to hold a court-martial on Evered while the question whether his action was necessary or not is sub judice? And remember that the Government decision is not the final decision; that time alone will show—show very soon, I greatly fear. What I ask therefore is that the court-martial should be held over, and Evered’s services retained, until his judges will have solid grounds for their decision.”

“There is great point to your argument certainly,” said Mr. Mansfield, in a hesitating way.

“Put it before Lord Saxville,” said Professor Rudge, “and say that it is my earnest request. Say that Evered acted under my advice, and that I will stop at nothing to defend him. Be sure you say that.”

Mansfield was somewhat behind the scenes. He smiled and promised.

As a result Captain Evered was placed under “open arrest,” retaining for the time his post on the Sagitta.

The members of the Government evidently held a private meeting after hearing Professor Rudge, for before the day was out each of the scientists received a request to draw up, as soon as possible—the following morning was suggested—a written statement of his opinion on the subject of Professor Rudge’s statement.

The scientists also had their meeting, the result of which was that one gave it as his opinion that Professor Rudge was deluded in some way not clear, admitting that it had been in circumstances and through a curious sequence of events, that almost excused him.

One declined to express an opinion one way or the other until the present state of the radio, or rather, the cause of it, had been solved, giving it as his opinion that if Professor Rudge was correct the clamor on the radio would be found connected with it, and therefore that the first thing to do before accepting hypotheses as facts, was to solve that mystery.

The other four, and they were those who were distinguished for common sense as well as science, considered that Professor Rudge had made out a sufficient case to justify the Government in taking instant action as though its truth were incontestable. Their argument was that absolute proof, as the phrase is used in science, was not necessary to their conclusion, for when so much was at stake, action for safety was clearly indicated.

After his efforts Professor Rudge went home feeling the inevitable reaction. Every bodily comfort that affection could suggest was lavished upon him, but he wanted something more. It was one of those times when even the stoutest and most self-reliant natures feel the need of some sympathetic soul that can understand and encourage.

He knew of none. The secrecy imposed on him seemed in itself sufficient to preclude any idea of a confidant. Perhaps it was that thought that brought to his mind one who already knew much of the matter and who could certainly be trusted with the remainder—May Treherne.

Tomorrow she would be under his roof. The thought somehow cheered and comforted him. He felt it would be good to have some one, not alone for the purpose of relieving him of much clerical work, but to whom he could talk on matters about which to others his lips were sealed.

Feeling relieved, his courage reasserted itself, and he went to his laboratory.

An idea had occurred to him. He had a small radio installation at his house for experimental purposes, and at this, with receivers on, he sat and listened. The radio storm was still going on. As unintelligible as ever, it seemed nevertheless to have a new interest for him. The investigation he was engaged on lasted for many hours. It was almost dawn when he ultimately retired, and his first act on waking was to return to his laboratory. At length he seemed satisfied.

In the morning the Prime Minister and his colleagues had the six reports before them, and a very short interchange of views showed Lord Saxville that there would be trouble from the divergence of views within the Cabinet. Partly because he could not but be influenced by the majority of the reports, and no doubt partly because he saw the party danger of delay, he decided that the matter should be promptly dealt with. He asked the more important members to meet him at the Admiralty in two hours’ time for a further talk with Professor Rudge and the other six scientists.

At this meeting Lord Saxville himself opened the proceedings.

“Gentlemen,” he said, addressing himself directly to Professor Pudge and his confreres, “since we met yesterday we have received the reports you have sent us on the Martian danger. One of you declines to accept it; Professor Stenham, of Oxford, wants further evidence on a certain point that he thinks has relation to it; but the other four strongly advise immediate action on such evidence as we already possess. In face of such a majority, to remain inactive is impossible.

“The primary purpose of this meeting is therefore not to decide if we shall act, but to receive your advice as to what course that action should take. It is not an ordinary matter, and, for its efficient handling, it is evident that the most up-to-date knowledge on subjects which active politicians have, I fear, little time to study, is indispensable.

“I may doubtless take it that action means taking measures for the destruction of a being now on the island known as Station X.

“The destruction of a man on that island, or any number of men, would be a simple matter, but the kernel of the whole affair before us is the assertion of Professor Pudge that this being is not a man. He tells us he is a Martian, and informs us that his powers are so vastly superhuman that a single error in our measures would inevitably be fatal, and that every hour’s delay is dangerous.

“Tell us, then, gentlemen, before we go further, what, on the supposition that Professor Rudge is right, are the measures you advise.”

“Saxville,” whispered the Home Secretary and would-be Prime Minister, to the colleague sitting next him, “is supposed to be addressing himself solely to the scientists, but you will notice how adroitly he is endeavoring to force our hands with his ‘primary purpose of this meeting.’ Like Mansfield, he is getting under the influence of this Rudge.”

“Perhaps Rudge is himself the Martian,” laughed the other.

“Gad,” said the Home Secretary, “it looks like it.”

Meanwhile Professor Rudge had begun to speak.

“Of the reports to which Lord Saxville has alluded, it is an immense relief to me to find that four are everything I could ask, and that it is intended to act in accordance with them.

“I now wish to refer to one of the other reports, that of my friend Professor Stenham, because the point it raises is a very reasonable one, and because I believe I have found the answer to it. He refers to the present interruption to radio communication. It was a very shrewd suggestion that this was related to the Martian invasion, and it struck me so yesterday. I have spent the night on it.

“I have an instrument in my laboratory, of my own invention, which I had intended to hand to the world at the next meeting of the Royal Society. With this it is an easy matter to detect at any moment the direction and length of the Hertzian waves on which wireless depends.

“I have spent over 12 hours in taking observations, and my first showed that all the etheric waves came from the same direction. I had anticipated that, having the idea that they perhaps came from Station X. But an observation taken one hour later showed that they all came from a new direction. This seemed inexplicable, for certainly Station X had not moved. Every succeeding observation showed further divergence. At the end of 12 hours their direction was exactly opposite to when I started.

“That gave me the clue. Following it, I soon found that although the line of direction made a constantly changing angle with the horizon, it pointed to a fixed point in space. The point is in Aries. I need not remind my confreres here that at present Venus is in Aries!”

The politicians present did not seem at once to see the drift of this, but among the scientists there was a sudden movement of the keenest interest. McFaden banged his right fist into his left palm.

“Ma conscience, he’s got it!” he cried.

“May I,” said Lord Saxville, with a smile “ask what it is that Professor Rudge has got?”

“The explanation,” said Professor Rudge, “is that the Venerians are undoubtedly making this etheric disturbance. I am the only man now on earth rendered capable of hearing their voices, by the wonderful rapport they can establish and for that a Station X installation would be required; but they have found a means of hurling into space this continuous blast of etheric impulses. They are of every possible wavelength that can give rise to sound in our instruments. Hence the impossibility of our radio stations intercommunicating.”

“What is their motive?” said Lord Saxville.

“In my opinion,” said Rudge, “it clearly indicates that the Venerians have seen either that the Martian is reconstructing or has reconstructed the installation of Station X, or that he has escaped or will escape from the island. They are doing this to prevent his communicating with Mars or with ourselves by radio, so that we may for a longer time have him alone to deal with, and a better chance of victory in consequence.”

“That,” said McFaden, “is so.”

Professor Stenham rose and said, “In face of this discovery I desire my report to be amended to concur with those of my four friends.”

The sixth man looked at the Home Secretary. He appeared unhappy, but did not speak. What Sir John Sarkby really thought about the matter was only known to himself, but his actions proved him determined to work solely for the furtherance of his personal ends.

“With the powerful alliance of the learned Professor’s celestial friends,” he said, quietly, “we shall now have ample time to consider our measures. Personally, I very much deprecate any precipitate action.”

“We can discuss that,” said Lord Saxville, “after this meeting.”

“So far as deciding on a definite line of action is concerned,” said Professor Rudge, “your decision, gentlemen, I fear, must be taken now.”

Lord Saxville knit his brows.

“I object,” said Sir John Sarkby, “to the use of the word ‘must’ from any man holding no office whatever.”

“It is not I,” said Professor Rudge; “it is the emergency that imposes the ‘must.’ ”

“That is for the Government to judge.”

“It is but slightly altering Lord Saxville’s own words,” said Professor Rudge, “if I say it is rather, in this instance, for science to judge, and for the Government to act.”

“And if our action,” said the Home Secretary, “does not meet with your full approval—”

“If your decision does not meet with the full approval of myself and my colleagues,” said Rudge, in firm and level tones, “and if that decision is not taken now, my measures are already complete for the whole matter, before this day is out, to be laid as fully before the French, German, Italian, United States and Japanese Governments as it is now before yourselves, and at the same time,” he continued, looking straight at the Prime Minister, “in the fullest detail given to the press of the world.”

Lord Saxville knew that Professor Rudge was in a position to carry out his threat. He had been informed that he was a wealthy man and was spending money freely; that since he had landed there were constant emissaries between him and Paris. There was also a frequent exchange of code telegrams.

Sir John Sarkby’s obvious desire was to sow dissension among the Cabinet in order to serve the ends he had in view.

Lord Saxville was already half convinced that Professor Rudge was right. He knew also that there was a section of the Cabinet, headed by the Home Secretary, that did not share this view. The situation was full of difficulties and potential complications.

It was agreed that instructions should be given the Admiralty to detach a portion of the China fleet for the purpose of reinforcing the Sea Lion and effectually surrounding and preventing intercourse with Station X, and with the use of observation balloons and airplanes, destroying by bombardment from a distance, anyone visible on the island. These vessels were to remain at their posts until the arrival of Professor Rudge, and then to be guided by his advice and direction.

These directions were given as soon as the meeting was over, and Professor Rudge was satisfied that all that could be done at the moment had been done.

Immediately after the meeting the Home Secretary buttonholed Mr. Mansfield as the man responsible for movements of the fleet, to feel his way with him, but found that the First Lord was solid for the Prime Minister.

He then got together the other members of the Government that were of his cabal, with Admiral Benson and the one objector among the scientists, a man who was selling his conscience and prostituting his knowledge, and they held a consultation among themselves.

While they professed not to believe in the Martian, they were more than willing to make use of him for the purpose of the political rearrangement they desired.

Several schemes for doing so were brought forward and debated, but the one finally adopted was startling in its boldness.

“Let us,” said the Home Secretary, “take Rudge at his word and show him that things will not pan out as he thinks. He will be on the high seas, and we shall have a clear field. Let us, without ourselves appearing, see to it that the press get hold of the story, and that through it the public get it in its most ludicrous aspects. In this way it will be possible to smother the whole thing, Saxville included, with ridicule.”

Once convinced that Professor Rudge might well be right, Lord Saxville decided to let him have his own way.

The Sagitta, with Captain Evered still in command, was to take Professor Rudge back to Station X for what he supposed was going to be his second and final round with his deadly foe.

It was sufficiently evident that no court could now punish Captain Evered for having done what a fleet was being despatched to do over again if necessary. He was released from open arrest, to the scandal of Admiral Benson. Furthermore, Captain Evered was made Commodore in command of the operations against the Martian.

On returning to his home Professor Rudge found that May Treherne had arrived, for which he was thankful.

“Stanley,” said Miss Rudge dryly, as he entered, “I approve of your taste in private secretaries,” and for some reason Professor Rudge felt himself flushing.

“I felt sure you would,” he said, at length. “She is certain to do her best, and she is very capable.”

“She is very bright,” said Miss Rudge, “and remarkably pretty.”

“I am glad to think you’ll get on together,” said Rudge.

“So am I,” was the response. “I was thinking of your future. Girls are very insidious.”

“I can’t imagine what you’re talking about,” was the Professor’s response; “but listen. I am leaving England again at once, and I shall be away for a considerable time. I hope you’ll make Miss Treherne feel at home here.”

And Miss Rudge promised with alacrity.

Calling May Treherne into his laboratory later, where he knew there could be no interruption, Professor Rudge told her what had happened. She was amazed at what she heard, for beyond the short cable message announcing Macrae’s death, she was ignorant of recent developments. She listened without interruption. With chin on palm she sat, and her eyes, with dilated pupils, watched the speaker, as she drank in the facts. Tears once had to be brushed away, but her attention did not wander.

“And now, Miss Treherne,” said Professor Rudge, after he had finished, “I want you to take up your duties here, and it will have to be in my absence.”

“You are going away at once?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said, “and your presence here is a great relief to me. Someone who will be watchful and loyal to my view may be required here while I am away. I know you will do your best.”

“I will do all I can,” she said, and her tone carried conviction.

“The worst part,” said Rudge, ’is that I have no confidence in the Government, and its members are divided among themselves. I have spoken with Professor McFaden, and he and I are now absolutely at one in this affair. Keep in touch with him. He is shrewd as well as reliable.”

He then astonished May by telling her that £5,000 was deposited in the bank in her name, and handed her the checkbook.

“Spend it in this cause,” he said, “”under McFaden’s advice, if and as required. Fight whoever opposes me. Don’t let the money question bother you.”

“But—Miss Rudge?” said the woman in May.

“My sister remains mistress of my house. In that she is competent; in this she would not be. In the matter you deal with she would be worse than useless, and, fortunately, she knows it. Let each of you keep to her own duties, and all will go well.”

May Treherne’s eyes shone. She thought of her late position at Sales, Ltd.

She was proud, but a little nervous of her responsibilities. She had plenty of pluck, but was glad of McFaden as a counsellor.

The Sagitta sailed. Professor Rudge’s one prayer was that the voyage might be an uneventful one, but the times were not uneventful. She was not far on her course when trouble began at home, thanks to self-seeking in high places. This rapidly developed until it became the greatest horror of its kind that Europe had ever experienced.

Leaving details of that for the moment, it may be mentioned that the first news of the panic and uproar came to the Sagitta by the secret naval code while she was coaling at Singapore.

Professor Rudge and the officers were horrified at the short epitome they got of events at home, but while they were lamenting it a cable message from the admiral commanding on the China station was handed by Captain Evered, the moment he had read it, to Professor Rudge. It at once drove all thoughts of what they had been speaking about out of his head.

It said: “Sea Lion not at Station X. No one apparently on island.”

Rudge went pale. The paper fluttered to the deck.

“My God, Evered,” he said. “We are too late!”

18. Panic

When the Sagitta, with Professor Rudge on board, left England, it would have been difficult to define precisely the average opinion respecting the Martian danger held by the comparatively few people who knew anything about it. There were at least half a dozen who had no doubt whatever that humanity was now in the actual presence of the most awful peril that had ever threatened it.

These few included McFaden, and certainly two of his brother scientists.

There were one or two others among scientists and members of the Cabinet who were sufficiently persuaded by the evidence to be anxious that every means should be employed to combat the danger.

Among the rest, opinions graduated, until one came to the few who flatly denied the whole thing, and while excusing their incredulity by asserting that Rudge was mad, were naturally too illogical to see that their solution, if accepted, scarcely weakened the evidence.

Things might have remained in that position and the public have been protected by their ignorance from the horrors that followed, but for the action of certain opportunists who thought they saw a chance of personal profit.

The Sagitta was scarcely out of the Channel before paragraphs began to appear in the papers respecting rumors that a being from Mars had appeared on earth. Considerable ability was shown in making his appearance and wanderings highly ridiculous. The subject lent itself well to the illustrated comic press. He became a music hall gag and a subject of encore verses to popular songs. “Have you seen the Martian?” became a catchphrase.

Not the slightest hint was allowed to creep into these references that politics was behind it all. But the desired end was achieved. All the world laughed—truly all the world, for the man from Mars was as popular on the Paris boulevards and in Italy as in London. In view of the more mercurial character of the people, it was not surprising that the furor for the absurd Martian rose to much greater heights abroad than in England. No cinema program was complete without him in some form or other.

This continental part had not been in the original scheme of the plotters. The infection had simply crossed the Channel and spread.

The conspirators were satisfied with the result of their plot, and considered its aim achieved, that end being, of course, to make the popular conception of the Martian so completely and irretrievably ridiculous as would make the Government’s action more than difficult to defend, and bring it down in ruin.

It was therefore the time to strike and charge them with having taken the joke seriously, and with the squandering of public funds over it.

At first, guarded hints appeared, somewhat indefinite, but sufficient for their purpose of starting on the trail that ever-wakeful creature, the inveterate parliamentary sniper. They had a glorious time, without knowing or caring whose interests they were serving. Their questions became every day more and more embarrassing.

Lord Saxville suspected the source of his new trouble. His instinct told him that very soon the enemy’s heavy batteries would be unmasked and an opportunity be asked for to discuss the charges of having moved a considerable fleet on a fantastical business instead of leaving it where it was really wanted, and with blocking the wireless so as temporarily to cover their stupidity.

He saw that unless something were done his downfall was certain.

The public was quite able to see that there must be something about which it had not been informed, and Lord Saxville realized that it was not only necessary for his own safety to let some of the truth be known, but that it was getting beyond his power to keep it back.

So another account of things began to get published, and the public pricked up its ears. It recognized at once a different tone in these statements. The Martian assumed another form, no longer a myth, but real; another expression, no longer comic, but sinister and menacing.

But it was overdone. Just as the original idea to make everything ridiculous had been overdone, so these later representations were deliberately designed to throw up all in a lurid light. There was little or no thought for the consequence. It was simply politician against politician.

The result of the sudden revulsion of feeling was doubtless unforeseen, and to a great extent unforeseeable. The politician had saved his seat, but neither attacker nor attacked had regarded the cost of their game. Statesmanship would have known that the actual position demanded a certain reticence, but it was bungled. The demand now for full and exact information became irresistible. The clamor throughout Europe was not to be denied.

If there had been no lampooning and only the information necessary given with proper discretion, the situation might well have remained under control. As it was, the people remembered that at the thing which now filled them with dread they had been encouraged to laugh.

It could not be expected that foreign governments would accept the Martian seriously on such very questionable evidence as was yet before them. So when they became aware that a considerable British fleet had been moved, nobody knew where or why, and that without control of the cables, and the block (possibly our block) of the radio, anything might be happening, their London embassies became busy.

Feeling the need of shifting some of the responsibility at home, and of having for the purposes of the Foreign Office, a more scientific account than it could prepare for itself, Lord Saxville, driven almost to his wits’ end, sent a confidential messenger to Professor Rudge’s house to ask who now represented him in this country.

The messenger was rather surprised to be received by May Treherne as the person he sought.

Having learnt his errand, May Treherne asked if Lord Saxville would make an appointment to meet Professor McFaden, and was told that he would be glad if the professor would call on him so soon as possible.

May went immediately to McFaden and told him the Prime Minister wanted to see him at once.

“Why?” asked the Professor.

“I don’t know exactly,” said May, “but it is about the Martian.”

“Well,” he said, “I suppose to hear is to obey. Will you come with me?”

She declined the honor.

“But you will be careful, won’t you, Professor? They are so wily, these politicians.”

Her anxiety lest in some way he should be overreached in Downing Street, while acting for Professor Rudge, amused McFaden considerably.

“I’ll do my very best, young lady,” he said.

“I am sure you will,” she said. “Professor Rudge is so clever, so strong, so brave, that any one must feel it an honor to act for him.”

“Is that so?” said McFaden dryly.

“Why, of course it is so,” said May Treherne, with conviction. For a moment she almost repented her decision not to go too.

“I will see you when I return,” said McFaden, “and you shall learn what two able advocates Rudge has left behind him.”

“Two?” said May.

“Aye, two,” said McFaden.

Lord Saxville did not allude to Foreign Office difficulties to McFaden. He explained his wish that the Professor should at once prepare a short treatise explaining in a scientific manner the present position in respect to the Martian, and dealing very fully with the evidence, and above all let him have this so soon as possible.

He was also to embody this in articles suited to the scientific journals for the better and more general information of the educated public.

“An attempt has been made by certain people,” said Lord Saxville, “to misrepresent the facts, and measures to correct this have followed, with the result that the public is confused and alarmed. I hope, therefore, you will publish the thing in a form adapted for the information of those capable of appreciating the evidence, as distinguished from the ignorant and impulsive masses. For these, the influential public, are also getting restive, regarding neither of the accounts hitherto sent out, as acceptable.”

“Will that,” asked McFaden, “allay the alarm?”

“It will be for the Government to deal with the symptoms of the rising panic. I wish your presentment to convince the thinking section that the measures taken were justified, and that everything necessary has been done.”

“I doubt,” said McFaden, “if we remain under that impression long.”

“You think our measures inadequate?”

“I doubt,” said McFaden, “if any measures within our power would be adequate.”

“Do you mean that this Martian is going to succeed against a world in arms?” There was anxiety in Lord Saxville’s tone.

“The world,” said McFaden, “is not in arms that I am aware of. After it reads my report perhaps it will consider it better that it should be.”

“You are not going to write an alarmist document?” asked Lord Saxville anxiously.

“I am going,” said McFaden, “to write the facts. Unless my mind deceives me, that will be a more alarmist document to the man who can think—there are not many!—than any or all of the cock-and-bull stories now current.”

“Well,” said Lord Saxville, extending his hand, “I hope you will let me have your statement as soon as possible tomorrow, and that things are not quite so bad meanwhile as you fear.”

Professor McFaden had not been slow to see that Lord Saxville was primarily fighting for his own hand, but was also genuinely desirous of allaying the popular alarm and killing the various pernicious and exaggerated tales going about. The vital and urgent business of fighting the Martian had, however, retired into the background of his mind.

Professor McFaden was so far right. The truth had no element of reassurance or consolation in it. He was a deep and clear thinker, and had given time and study in visualizing the possible powers of the superman. It had not left him an optimist. It had not convinced him that enough was being done.

He kept his word to May Treherne, and reported his interview. She discovered his doubts of success.

“We have one element in our favor,” he said, “in that we have a good man at the helm in Rudge. Within human limits he will not fail.”

He seemed willing to talk for once, and he had a sympathetic listener.

“Well, Professor McFaden,” she said, as he rose to go, “your sex, I believe, is inclined to deny mine reason, but at least grants us instinct. Now, your reason tells you that we are going to fail in spite of Professor Rudge, but I have an instinct that tells me we shall win because of Professor Rudge.”

“Well, lassie,” he said, in going, “then I’ll also be having an instinct—that if friend Rudge does win yonder he’ll come back to meet wi’ another difficulty, and be beaten to a frazzle, as the Yankee said.” He went away chuckling, leaving May Treherne with no idea of what he was talking about.

Professor McFaden’s articles appeared, and their influence was marked. They killed a great many wild and absurd rumors, and thus did good, but the people to whom they were really addressed were exasperated at having been played with and kept so long in the dark.

Letters and articles appeared in all the big dailies, wanting to know why facts had been suppressed, while lampoons of so terrible a thing were being sent about. Why this incredible muddling, etc., etc.

The savants of the continent also did not dissemble their indignation at the way the English Government had treated them, and its easygoing way with the peril itself, which after all was an international affair.

“This matter,” they said, “is not a British question; it is a world question. It is not for any one nation, but for humanity, to say what measures should be taken; and it is urgent.”

The daily press of every country, now thoroughly informed of the facts, filled its columns with details, explanations, political recriminations and advice.

Pulpit and platform dealt with it, and as its horror became more clearly realized, its danger understood, the world rang with it.

Much that was written and said publicly, although true in the main part, was highly injudicious, and the effect on the masses deplorable. Once the thing had really seized on the popular imagination nothing availed to stay the panic. The very intangibility, the ghastly character of this psychic threat, so awful, so imminent, gripped even those whose temperament would have enabled them to meet an everyday material danger unmoved.

The power of this invader to seize on other personalities struck a note of terror that found an answering chord in minds even the most phlegmatic. Its effect on the nervous and hysterical was terrible.

Unfortunately, among the densely ignorant peasantry of the south and east of Europe, there are several horrible superstitions, of which the seizing and entering into possession of people by evil and unshriven spirits, is a prominent part. They were therefore the less inclined to wonder at or doubt this power of the Martians, and were ready in many cases to fight the foe with exorcising rites of the most fiendish description.

Everywhere people began to look in the eyes even of their most intimate friends with a suspicion, a question in their glance. Among the more superstitious section of the community, if a person behaved in an aggressive or eccentric manner, his life was in peril. In this connection there were daily happenings of a most deplorable nature—assaults, murders.

In order to stay the wild panic, the utmost publicity was given to the information that the danger was small, because localized by the Sea Lion having now been reinforced by a fleet sufficient to prevent the escape of the Martian from the island of Station X.

The reassuring nature of this was qualified by the picture it drew of what must be the Martian’s power when such measures were necessary.

Then on the very heels of this, the tidings came through that the Martian had seized the Sea Lion, and, in full command of her crew, had left the island for no one knew where. Without thought of the consequences, this news was published. The floodgates of panic and unreason were opened. Scenes were enacted that would have been almost incredible as occurring in medieval or ancient times, but which no one would have believed possible in ours. Along the east Mediterranean littoral and throughout the Slavonic countries, and in certain parts of southeast and eastern Europe, including Russia itself, the state of panic rose to its greatest heights. Here it was no longer a question of one Martian, but of thousands—everywhere.

Hope of escape seemed to be relinquished. The world was panic-stricken. People fought like cornered animals. Pitched battles, originating in some trifling incident, no one knew what, took place between contending mobs, until streets ran blood.

The very scenes their own madness enacted confirmed each that he, (or, alas! she) was fighting for life against Martians in human form.

Things did not come to this pass in the west of Europe, but in several countries it was a fact, perhaps not altogether to be wondered at, in the atmosphere that surrounded them, that the rulers as well as ruled lost their heads.

One thing was, however, settled at once without opposition—and it was the wisest decision that could have been arrived at—that there should be unity of direction in what concerned all equally, and that, while he was available, Professor Rudge’s advice should be law.

McFaden maintained an impassable exterior, and tried to busy himself with other things, but he knew it was a miserable failure.

He, the reputed misogynist, fell into a habit of going round to Great Queen Street and having a cup of tea. May Treherne’s confidence and bright optimism comforted him.

It was impossible at this time to talk about any but one subject, and here was the only place where he cared to talk about that.

If May Treherne’s brave spirit, that shed and refused all doubts and fears, seemed good to cynical McFaden, it was still more so to Miss Rudge.

That good lady, beginning by liking the girl, soon passed all the stages of loving her.

“What should I have done,” she said, “in a time like this if my brother—may God protect him!—had not provided me with May to cheer me?”

“She is a fine lass, and sensible,” said McFaden, “and her confidence is wonderful.”

“Her confidence,” said Miss Rudge, “is in my brother.”

“I notice that,” said McFaden dryly.

Miss Rudge caught the tone of the remark.

“I was,” she said, “at first afraid for Stanley, hot knowing what the girl was like, and seeing that there must be about 20 years between them. But now I should think him lucky to have such a wife as May would make him.”

May Treherne would have been surprised had she heard this conversation, and it would not have pleased her.

She believed herself now and for always true and devoted for life to the memory of her dead lover. She had had little enough time to analyze her feelings, and she was not introspective. The truth was that her love for Macrae had been half mother love. She had now for the first time come into contact with a brave spirit, kindred of her own. She had felt the glow of its influence, without comprehending. If the sun shone the seed would grow.

Her memory of the dead would not necessarily all die. It would grow less a part of her life. The moon shines by day, but few see it.

19. Professor Rudge Lands at Station X

Professor Rudge, at Singapore, recovering from the shock he had received, braced himself to meet the new situation. He recognized that it was now critical.

It was evident that once again the Martian had taken a long stride forward. Moreover, he had won and retained all the manifest advantages of the initiative. He had this time left his opponents in the dark as to the exact nature of the blow he had struck, or where the next might be expected.

“I suppose there can be no doubt,” said Captain Evered, “that the Martian is really responsible for the Sea Lion’s disappearance?”

“It is almost a certainty,” said Rudge. “There was the clearest understanding with Captain Connell that he should not leave the neighborhood of the island nor communicate with it. There is no doubt in my mind that it was on the latter point that the wily foe outwitted him. In that case the situation we have now to deal with is a thousand times worse than if that unfortunate vessel had never been sent. I fear we must reckon now with a Martian in command of the Sea Lion.”

The picture was sufficiently alarming, and over the cable Professor Rudge learned of the effect of the news in Europe and elsewhere. It was even more terrible than he had expected.

The reason, he was quick to appreciate, was due to the public perception of the increased difficulty in dealing with the situation that had now arisen.

Its effect from that cause was enhanced by its being universally felt that here was now an overt act that utterly removed the comforting idea that the thing might not, after all, be as bad as had been represented.

This further and conclusive proof of the reality of the danger against which they were called upon to act, and the difficulty of deciding on the lines that action should take, affected different statesmen in different ways. The lethargic it roused to nervous energy; the naturally nervous it reduced to a state bordering on helplessness.

The first impulse everywhere was to get the advice of Professor Rudge as to the next thing to be done.

His reply was prompt. “Let two of the fleet at Station X remain to guard it and the remainder endeavor to get information of the direction taken by the Sea Lion. Above all, every radio installation in the world must be instantly dismantled in case the Venerians close their wireless barrage.”

Commodore Evered agreed that, by scattering, news might be got from some merchant ship.

Professor Rudge found that he would have no difficulty in procuring the measures that he considered necessary. In view of the internal state of each country, apart from the danger and urgency of the thing to be dealt with, no urging on his part was required.

All were anxious to do everything possible in the endeavor to overcome this world menace, and to seek Rudge’s advice and assistance. He could not but contrast the Government’s attitude now with that when he had first put the affair before them. Then he could only gain attention under threats; now he was being overwhelmed with inquiries as to what should be done.

He was begged to remain in port so as to be in touch with the cable until everything had been arranged. All foreign governments seemed to regard him as their chief adviser, as being the most likely to be able to divine the Martian’s intentions.

This he utterly repudiated, repeating to all that it would be absurd for any human being to pretend to be able to fathom the Martian’s plans.

“The thoughts of these beings,” he cabled to Whitehall, “are undoubtedly so far above our reach that it is useless to make an endeavor to read their minds. The only thing for us to do at present is to seek the enemy in every direction to the utmost of our power, and destroy him without parley.

“We know his object, and we know his starting place. The rest is surmise. That is why I say we must seek in every direction.”

It says much for the energy of the various governments that before many hours had passed various units of the fleets were being despatched to their allotted stations with instructions to get in touch with each other so soon as possible, to gather all information possible from merchant ships, and every other source available, and to use every endeavor to prevent the Sea Lion making any continental landing.

The various fleets were allotted areas according to their position when the orders were given. The Japanese and British ships of the China squadron were ordered to cover the north and Asian coast line. The fleets of American Powers were to keep watch on the East Pacific. Warships were rushed from the Mediterranean to cover the African littoral. European warships were sent, some by Suez, some by the Cape. Vessels of every size and accompanied with balloons and seaplanes rushed to their posts. All the navies of the world were galvanized into sudden activity, the unifying idea of the whole being to form as quickly as possible a vast ring enclosing as much of the Pacific as possible, with the object of enclosing the Sea Lion and finding her.

As soon as the plan was settled, the Sagitta proceeded with Professor Rudge on her journey to Station X. On hearing of the disappearance of the Sea Lion an idea had come to the Professor and he was anxious to be at the island as soon as possible. In his mind time was the essence of the thing.

In the conversations that took place on board he gave his views for what they were worth. He was careful to explain how little their worth might be. It was all hypothetical, and the plans of the Martian were an impenetrable mystery.

“By some means beyond our power to guess at,” he said, “he may have got away from the island, and the Sea Lion have gone in chase. The Sea Lion may have been attacked and sunk, and the Martian and his two slaves be still in hiding on the island. Thirdly, most dangerous, and seemingly to us most probable of all, the Martian obtained command of the battle cruiser, and has gone off in her—where?”

He also said that as the Martian’s aim was to bring other Martians in the same horrible way as he himself had arrived, it seemed plausible iso suppose that he would desire to get where he would be safe from sea bombardment and have at command a sufficient population to be his slaves in the work of erecting a powerful radio station for communication with his own world. The ultimate purpose would be to turn all into Martians, until an army of these existed before which anything in the nature of human opposition would be out of the question.

It was impossible to say if he had decided upon Asia, Africa, or America, or upon any of the many large islands extending from southeastern Asia. He might even decide upon Australia.

The fleets had therefore been sent to defend and cut off his access to all these coastlines. Would they be in time? Professor Rudge kept as brave an exterior as he could assume, but in his secret heart he was not sanguine. He considered the chances were on the side of the Martian.

Stouthearted as he was, he felt at times that the anxieties of the moment were too great for any man’s shoulders to bear, and without parallel in the world’s history. In the past there had been some vital decisions, when arms and valor had decided in a few hours the broad lines of history for centuries. These had been such questions as to whether Europe should grow into all we mean by that word, a lamp by which all the world should be lit and led, or be forever a mere appanage and dependency of Asia.

Never before had it been the case of a day, or perhaps an hour, deciding the fate of the whole human race.

Professor Rudge considered it fortunate that the large and efficient naval force of Japan was promptly ready to reinforce our eastern squadrons, as it seemed to him that China and India, with their enormous populations, must have great attractions for the Martian. Once either of those countries was attained, the Martian’s victory was certain.

Every available vessel was pressed into the service, even destroyers and submarines. Seaplanes were based in the larger warships, and thus greatly extended their radius of observation.

By the time the Sagitta reached Station X, the combined sea and air fleets of the world had drawn a kind of cordon round a vast expanse of the Pacific, within which it was reasonable to suppose the Sea Lion existed. No news had been received of her having appeared on any coast, or having been sighted by any of those on the lookout for her afloat.

This was not conclusive that she had not been seen, for some of the ships were far from any cable station, and it was strictly forbidden to carry radio. In any case it would have been useless while this mysterious interruption lasted.

Under Professor Rudge’s advice, it was universally made a capital offense to have a radio installed, big or little. Any person, official or private, was empowered and enjoined to shoot, or in any way kill at sight, any one contravening this order. A large reward accompanied the rendering of this public service.

It was true that this order caused the deaths of many innocent people. In the state of public feeling that was inevitable. The danger was, however, so great, so overwhelming, that the order, with all its drawbacks, was considered more than justified because of the risk of the Martian succeeding in circumventing the protective action of the Venerians, and so establishing rapport with some unfortunate operator somewhere, thus nullifying all the efforts being made.

There was one exception to the wireless order. On board the Sagitta was a small installation under Professor Rudge’s own sole control. This he had arranged for a purpose of his own, so that it could be rendered efficient by touching a switch, to the extent of just enabling him to hear the sound of the Venerian interruption, but nothing else. In his dread of the Martian, he had arranged it so that should a single syllable come through, the pressure of a finger would instantly cut the connection.

He had been busy during the voyage over this installation, its beginning dating from when the news had been received that the Sea Lion had disappeared. An idea had come into his head that he spoke of to no one until Station X was reached.

As the Sagitta approached the island, he had more than once put his ears to the receivers for a moment. The gabble of the interruption he found still going on.

Part of the Sagitta’s new equipment for this voyage was a captive balloon of the long or observation type. When only a couple of miles from the island, Professor Rudge asked Commodore Evered not to approach nearer, but to steam slowly round it. He himself went to his radio and listened. The interruption continued. He listened. Will they invite me to land? he thought. It was what he had come for.

He was convinced the Venerians were the cause of this etheric disturbance, and that it was done on our behalf; neither had he any doubt that the present position of the Sagitta was being closely observed.

Suddenly the interruption ceased. Hope once more lit the features that had lately grown so haggard. Confidence returned. The cessation of sound could be no coincidence, nor—the thought crept in—a Martian trick?

He went on deck, and found that under Commodore Evered’s direction the gas cylinder had been brought out, and the balloon was being inflated.

A keen-eyed young officer volunteered to man it, and, with balloon aloft at a sufficient height to command the whole island, the Sagitta again steamed round it.

As soon as the balloon was hauled down, the observer reported.

“I cannot see anyone on the island,” he said, “nor any obvious hiding place, but the rough surface of the ground would make it possible for anyone to hide without danger of being discovered. The shell holes caused by the bombardment are quite visible. The station buildings have not been re-erected. There appears to have been no attempt in that direction. There has been something done to the installation, though! A lot of poles have been erected, and the wiring looks quite in order. It might now be a perfectly going concern for anything one can see to the contrary.”

The pleased look on Professor Rudge’s face still further increased; he even rubbed his hands.

“Commodore,” he said, “I want you now to load and train your guns forward and steam slowly to within half a mile of the shore. Instruct your gunners to fire at anything that moves. Also post some snipers in the fighting top. I don’t think we shall see anyone. The island is, I believe, abandoned, but we must reduce all risks to a minimum.”

The Sagitta slowly advanced. There was an acute tension on board. Officers and crew knew that all the world was in uproar, that mankind felt itself trembling on an insecure foothold, on the brink of a bottomless abyss of ruin. They knew that ahead of the Sagitta, behind the fringe of cliff, lay the source and center—or what had recently been the center—of the terror.

When about half a mile distant the Sagitta’s engines were stopped. It was evident to all that something had inspired the Professor with confidence. He was slightly flushed as he turned to the Commodore.

“Evered,” he said, “I have something to tell you of the greatest importance, unless my reading of it is completely wrong.”

He drew him aside to where they could not be overheard.

“While we were at Singapore, and the news that Station X was apparently deserted was brought to us, I wondered how this might affect the radio interruption by the Venerians. That is why I rigged up this installation. I knew that in the present relative position of the planets all our movements were being closely watched by our powerful allies. Their having started their radio interference implied that the Martian was refitting the wireless at Station X. Would they continue their block if it should be true that the station was deserted, and before any other should be erected, if I approached the island?

“In the absence of poor Macrae I am now the only one with whom they can communicate. Would they, if possible, do so? As we steamed round the island I awaited a sign that our position was noted, and an encouragement to proceed. They must be all aware of the dread we should have in doing so. They look upon us as anything but a courageous race. To put the matter to the final test, I requested you to approach the island as though to land. My hope is fulfilled. The interruption is silent. At this moment there is nothing to interfere with radio communication!”

Commodore Evered appreciated the significance of this.

“Feeling,” went on the Professor, “that the need might arise, I have written the fullest advice for the future, under different contingencies, so far as I can see them. You will find this in my cabin, addressed to you.”

“But you’re not going to leave us!” said Evered.

“I am now going to land on the island,” was the reply, “to communicate, if all goes well, with the Venerians.”

“But that will not take long, will it?” asked the Commodore.

“The conversation,” said Professor Rudge, ’will, I think, for a good reason, be short; but I shall be permanently lost to you.”

“Lost to us!” was the surprised reply. “How lost to us?”

“Please give the order,” was the quiet rejoinder. “Time presses. Have a boat loaded with provisions sufficient for a month or two, with a tent and camp bed. Food and water, of course. While this is being done I will explain to you my reading of the situation. It is essential that we do not lose time.”

The Commodore looked at the Professor for a second or two in surprise; although he could not understand the drift of them, he gave the necessary orders.

Professor Rudge continued his explanation.

“I land,” he said, “in the one hope of getting into communication once more with the Venerian. If I have read the signs correctly, I shall do so. If I am wrong, which well may be, I shall”—he paused—“become as Macrae has become.”

“If this is some risky service, then I insist on going,” said Commodore Evered. “Larch can take my place; there is nobody to take yours.”

“That’s impossible,” said Professor Rudge, “as you would not be able to speak with the Venerian.”

“Then at least I can come and assist you—”

“No, Evered. I thank you heartily, but it would be the useless risk of a valuable life. I must go alone.”

“But it beats me why you cannot get your conversation over while we wait for you, and let us take you back.”

“That,” said Professor Rudge, “is the most impossible thing of all. If the island is deserted and the installation in order, or so that I can quickly put it so, I shall have a communication to make you that I hope will save the present desperate situation. For I confess, although everyone is now doing his best, I had very little hope. Our chances, in consequence of the long start of the Sea Lion, seemed very small. If the island is not deserted, and I tell you it is quite possible, then I shall meet the Martian.

“Which happens may not be apparent to you. Therefore after I have landed, you must not allow me to return or approach the Sagitta, any more than you would if you knew me to be the Martian. I shall take a line with me, and if all goes well, I shall fasten a bottle containing a note to the end of it. In this there will be a place mentioned. It will be where the Martian is. Go there immediately with all the most powerful war vessels you can collect enroute. See that you have more than ample force to deal with several Sea Lions.

“Let nothing escape. Sink, burn and destroy all you find. Let no living creature evade destruction under any plea or pretense. Impress it on all. It will be the one chance given us! Remember the stake, Evered! I have not time to say more. Remember that if ever the moment comes of which I speak, as God grant it may, everything we hold dear, in a fuller sense than ever the words were used before, everything depends on your ruthlessness and thoroughness.”

Professor Rudge was satisfied with the expression he saw on the Commodore’s face, and with the knowledge he had of his character.

“And now,” he said, in less forceful tones, “to the thing immediately before us. Remember, if all goes well, I shall not ask to be taken on board again. Disregard any message of the kind I may send you, or any wile of mine with that end in view. If there is any advice or instruction contained in my note beyond the mention of a place, probably indicated by latitude and longitude, do not act on it. Remember also that the place I mention may be fraudulent. If so, it will for a time weaken our total force by a few vessels, but that risk is worth taking. That is all, and I see my boat is ready!”

The Professor went below for a few moments, during which he wrecked his radio.

Commodore Evered, as he shook hands with him, said:

“And they said, Professor, that the human race lacked courage! They said it to you! They must be a peculiar people, these Venerian friends of ours!”

Professor Rudge only smiled in answer.

The “Goodbye and good luck!” was soon spoken, and the self-marooned man pushed off alone with his laden boat. They watched him land, fasten his boat and scale the cliff. In another second he was lost to view behind it.

20. The Fleet Assembles

For a few seconds the Commodore gazed at the spot on the cliff where Professor Rudge had disappeared.

’That,” he said, “is the real thing.”

When he had scaled the steep cliff and lost sight of the Sagitta and of the sea, as he walked down the gentle incline of the island, Professor Rudge was afraid.

He did not know who, or what, might be watching him, like a spider watching an approaching fly. He knew that somewhere in the world there was a mighty embodied spirit of evil, not human, vastly superhuman; one whose dominant gaze he would be unable to meet, in whose grasp—not physical, but spiritual—his spirit would be powerless, a mere wisp of thistledown to be caught up, hurled aside, at that being’s pleasure.

Not knowing what any moment might produce he walked straight on.

A shiver ran along his spine, causing his scalp to tingle. He was in the presence or neighborhood of the uncanny. Still he walked straight on.

The little scene before him was very familiar. One accustomed object was missing—the wooden bungalow. Some small fragments of it were scattered about.

But all else, every other detail that met his eyes, was subsidiary to the answer they received to the great question that had been worrying him—the radio. A glance showed that it had been re-erected.

The conclusion that it would be there he had arrived at by deduction. His coming to the island at all was the result of that reasoning; the deduction simplicity itself, but, like many other simple processes, requiring the one man. His argument was: the Martian is at Station X; the Venerians are blocking the radio; therefore there is again wireless at Station X.

The labor for three pairs of hands must have been enormous, almost unthinkable. There must have been a powerful motive. He could guess that motive. Poor wretches of the Sea Lion!

He noticed that very little of the wood of the bungalow now existed. As he strode forward he wondered what had become of it. Fuel for some chemical work, or to produce tantalum from some mineral for tube filaments. The thought of tantalum reminded him of the missing vacuum tubes. He saw the system was different, but he was confident no mere vacuum tubes could be made to do his work.

Certainly the effort to solve this was not essential at the moment. Indirectly it was beneficial, as it diverted his thoughts.

On arriving at the spot where the radio operator’s seat and fittings had been, and, in other form, still were, he noticed near him a large tank filled with viscous fluid, divided into small compartments. He tested these fluids with finger and tongue; some strongly alkaline, the base soda; others corrosively acid, chlorine the active agent. So that was how it had been done! A Martian battery!

There was a generator also, a mystery totally unlike any machine of the kind he had ever seen. Here is a rich harvest, thought the scientist, if only we come through.

Effective? Through the incautious movement of a finger, in attaching the storage tank, he very nearly received a charge that would have ended his life in a moment.

In the smallest possible space of time Professor Rudge had sufficiently mastered the arrangement, put the receivers over his ears. The great moment had arrived.

A violent shudder shook him from head to foot. Yet he did not now consciously feel fear, although he noticed that his hand trembled.

As he opened his mouth to utter the well-known call, an involuntary glance round was taken. Somewhere in his brain something seemed to say, although in many details quite revel to him, and “Heaven shield me from an answer at my elbow!”

“Are you there?” he said.

Professor Rudge had informed himself as to the exact positions of both Venus and Mars. The former was approaching superior conjunction, but still making a considerable angle with the sun. Her distance, measured in etheric wave terms, was six minutes. Mars was coming near, although a long way from direct opposition. One result of these relative positions was that the dark or night side of the earth was turned to Mars, the bright or day side to Venus. Rudge saw that there might be an advantage in our doings being visible from the latter but not by our enemies.

The quickest answer he could receive to his call was in 12 minutes. The earliest answer from Mars would take more than double that, but that did not affect him, as he was not in the necessary rapport with any Martian for a call from that distance to reach him. But he knew that if the Martian now somewhere on earth had his instrument ready, his call might come through at any moment.

It was under such terrifying conditions that he prepared to keep his ears to the receivers 12 minutes, with what fortitude he could. But he had reckoned without the Venerian.

When he had been waiting six minutes a voice came through. The voice—how well he knew those silver tones!—Never did voice sound so much like heavenly music as did this to Professor Rudge.

At the first sound of it he realized that he must have been closely observed. His call had been awaited.

It said, “We have seen you come to the island with pleasure, Professor Rudge. It was well thought of and bravely done, and gives your race still a chance when nothing else could.

“First, the present position. The Sea Lion came within three miles of the island, and the Martian doubtless swam to her at night, for we saw next morning that he was in command of her. We have been erecting a plant for the emission of interference waves, but it was not finished in time to prevent the horrible occurrence of that day. This interference emission is not under sufficient control to be made a means of communication. It can only prevent communication. The Sea Lion’s crew are nearly all Martians. We blocked the communication before their evil work was quite completed. For once they were taken by surprise.

“Finding what we were doing, they evidently at once decided to begin elsewhere the erection of an installation that would overpower any attempt on our part to interfere. We do not know what form this can take, but know the Martians well enough to be sure they will succeed.

“Evidently it requires connected positions further apart than is possible at Station X. They have consequently left, on the Sea Lion, for the larger island at longitude 180°, latitude 50° north. Write that at once: longitude 180°N. lat. 50°. They are now there, erecting their plant. If they finish it before they are interfered with, the world is theirs.

“And now, secondly, what you must do is to collect with all speed at least 10 times greater fighting strength, and go to the place named. There must be no near approach to the Sea Lion nor to any Martian. By bombardment, at greatest distance practicable, destroy first the installation, then all life on ship and island, man and Martian.

“Your fate depends on two things—arriving at the place in time, and the complete destruction of every living creature. Go at once. If all goes well we can converse later. You may lose by one day, one minute even. That is all.”

The last word had scarcely been spoken when the jangle of the interference recommenced. Professor Rudge had no doubt that his return to the boat would be taken as sufficient sign that he had heard and understood, and that, if he remained, a further opportunity would be given him.

That being unnecessary, he put off the receivers and ran for the shore.

Hope lent youth to his feet and thrilled every nerve. The tremendous reaction he felt was the measure of his late depression.

He felt that this last chance had not been given to lose now. There must not be a moment’s slackening. He did not forget that on every previous occasion, every time of crisis, the Martian had not only extricated himself, but had gained something.

There was no room for him to gain anything more, unless the earth were to lose all. Man had his back to the wall.

Arrived by his boat, he wrote the Venerian’s own words from memory. They had burnt themselves into his mind. He had made only one note, the latitude and longitude of the island. This he carefully copied.

The paper was put into the bottle and flung into the sea. The half-mile of line was pulled in. With his field glasses the Professor watched the Commodore read the note.

“I will judge by his promptness now,” he thought.

In 10 seconds the screws were revolving. He smiled. It was a good omen.

A distant hand wave, and the Sagitta was on her course. Professor Rudge saw her signal to the two other cruisers, and saw them start in the same direction. The lonely watcher scaled the cliff again, and watched them till they were mere specks on the horizon. Another minute, and those too had disappeared.

Professor Rudge would have given anything he possessed to be on board the Sagitta. He had seen no other way without undue risk, but it was a hard fate that had kept him from the final scene, and parted him from his companions.

He saw a long and anxious time ahead of him, and considered the best medicine would be preoccupation.

He turned to the work of getting all his stores on the island and his tent pitched. With muscles of iron and the agility of youth, it did not mean so much as it would to most men over 40.

So well did his natural bent and the habit of many years serve him, that his last thought that night was what a storehouse of science the work of the Martian had now left to his investigation.

Onboard the Sagitta Commodore Evered re-received the bottle that was hauled aboard with eager hands, and did not stop to draw the cork. In two seconds he was devouring the contents. His spirits bounded.

As he read the last word his hand was on the indicator—full speed ahead.

“Now,” he said, ’we have them! Signal the cruisers to keep company. Set a course to the WNW.”

Then he turned and waved his farewell, his one regret being the leaving of Professor Rudge behind.

He did not require a chart to tell him that the place mentioned as the position of the Sea Lion was due north of him, as the longitude given was practically the same as that of Station X. He guessed the place must be one of the Rat Islands of the Aleutian group, but found it was just south of them.

His plan was made with the promptness characteristic of him. To make, at the Sagitta’s best speed, for Japan, knowing he would be sure to pick up her fleet enroute. To cable from Japan for the fleet guarding the North American coast to join them with the utmost despatch at long. 180°, lat. 45°N., and then with the united fleets steam north together and attack the Martians.

It would be the quickest way of assembling for the attack the greatest number of units available. It would take a little longer than going straight from Station X, but that would be to go with a weak force.

He remembered Rudge’s earnest admonition not to underrate his enemy.

Of all enemies to underrate, the Martians was surely the last.

In any case he considered himself bound to report at once and state the plan he was acting under, pending orders.

While still a considerable distance from land, about 148°E. long., he encountered a Japanese cruiser, a unit of the fleet now guarding her eastern coasts. He reported the facts to her commander, and instructed him to inform the fleet with the utmost despatch and convey his orders that as many as possible should proceed to long. 180°, lat. 45°, while he went on to Tokyo for the purpose of getting to the cable.

Thus the world became aware of the result of the Sagitta’s visit to Station X. The salutary effect was tremendous. It calmed the overstrained nerves of humanity and greatly lessened the resulting tumult.

The Commodore’s plan was confirmed, and all the warships then available in the North Pacific were ordered to the rendezvous and to place themselves under his orders. These included units of British, United States, Russian and Japanese nationality, which the last named made the most powerful contribution.

21. A Battle of Giants

Two days after the marooning of Professor Rudge, and while he was engaged on his investigation of the Martian’s work at Station X, he was astonished to hear the hum of an airplane’s engines. Looking up, he saw a seaplane flying toward the island, in fact, already over the cliff. Its observer had evidently already seen him, for the machine was coming straight in his direction. Rudge watched to see the landing, wondering how this was going to be effected on so rock-strewn a surface. The pilot seemed himself to have some doubts, for he re-crossed the cliff and proceeded to land on the narrow strip of sand between cliff and sea.

The pilot met the Professor on the top of the cliff, and saluting stiffly, apologized if he were intruding, and announced himself as an officer of the German air force attached to the cruiser visible from where they were standing, about two miles from the island.

He explained that, the use of the island being now no longer a secret, the cruiser had been sent to pay it a visit and see if it could be of any use against the common enemy.

The reason given was so out of harmony with the situation at the moment, that Professor Rudge at once rightly gauged it as a prying expedition.

“Your visit,” he said, mentioning who he was, then the best known name in all the world, and immediately obtaining another salute, “could scarcely in any circumstances have been of any use, but might easily have been very disastrous. As it is, it can do no harm, and I would like to go on board your cruiser to speak with the captain.”

The airman turned facing the cruiser, and began swinging his arms, spelling out the request. In two minutes a boat was lowered, and after more salutings, carried Professor Rudge on board. Here there were further salutings, until Professor Rudge began to wonder if they resulted in unusual muscular development among Germans of the military and aerial caste.

In his conversation with the captain of the cruiser, he did not scruple to say that the visit showed a complete want of understanding of the character and powers of the Martian. He explained his own presence on the island, gave the information of the augmented force of the enemy and their present whereabouts, and the fight planned to take place there for their extermination.

Into the doubts and queries that had caused this cruiser to be sent to Station X there is no need to enter. The report of the airman and Professor Rudge’s words appeared to have settled them.

The captain expressed his willingness to accommodate Professor Rudge on board, and needed no pressing to steam at once for the island where the world’s fate would be decided. This was all the Professor wanted, and more than he had dreamed of occurring. He could almost forgive the real nature of the visit in his joy at getting passage to where he wished to be.

He would not hear of going ashore again for his kit, and with nothing but what he stood up in, the vessel started. Professor Rudge soon noticed that her speed was far less than that of the Sagitta.

Meanwhile, 1,600 miles to the north of Station X, a fleet of 14 war vessels, ranging from battleships to small cruisers, was assembling. Commodore Evered found that starting with this force would save him a day, and it seemed far more than sufficient against one battle cruiser, for it included three battleships, two battle-cruisers, six cruisers of powerful armament, besides three smaller vessels. It would also be followed in twenty-four hours by a considerable augmentation.

The Commodore decided to remain on the Sagitta. His reasons were her speed and because in the novel nature of the coming contest he did not know what unprecedented service might be called for, and he knew his crew and his ship and could depend on both.

There was none among the civilized nations ignorant of the Martian and the danger he represented. Nonetheless, there was surprise even among the officers of the fleet at the rendezvous on account of the size of the force assembled against “so small a foe.” They were able to gauge only the material danger. The force against them was the battle cruiser Sea Lion, and to their minds, that alone counted.

As soon as the fleet was assembled the Commodore made the signal “Captains repair on board.” He explained his plans and handed to each a copy of his detailed general instructions.

So soon as all were again on their respective ships, he made the signal to start for the Martian’s island, then about 10 hours’ steaming for the Sagitta, to the north. It was then four bells in the morning watch.

In the afternoon of the same day, a little after three bells, the island was raised, and the Commodore sent up a couple of seaplanes to reconnoiter, but with strict orders not to approach nearer than four miles. It was a good day for observation, a clear sky and atmosphere, no wind and a sea without a ripple.

The observers reported that the Sea Lion was visible, and that many people were scattered about the place, working at something apparently connected with a radio installation already existing.

One reason for the choice of this island by the Martians was at once apparent in its peculiar shape and contour, which the naval chart did not fully indicate. It was seen to be a mountainous ridge of almost bare precipitous rock, four miles long, running in an east and west direction, but somewhat curved, the convex side to the north. At its highest point it rose nearly a thousand feet above sea level. This was about a mile from its eastern end, where it had nearly a mile in width and from which point a branch or offset divided from the island and ran in a westerly direction, leaving a channel of several hundred yards in width, and of considerable depth, between it and the main part of the island.

This spur had little width, but precipitous sides, both inside and out, and a razor-like edge at its summit, something after the style of the Needles, but much longer than either of them.

It was in the inlet so formed that the Sea Lion was lying, invisible except by airplane, and immune from direct bombardment.

The Commodore placed his ships so as to encircle the island at a distance of five or six miles, with intervals of something over two miles between each two.

He placed the Sagitta due south, and the place of each of the others was duly set out in the instructions. West of the Sagitta were two other cruisers, Nos. 2 and 3. Facing the Sea Lion if she emerged from the inlet was the battleship. No. 4. Northwest of the island were ranged cruiser No. 5, battle cruiser No. 6, and cruiser No. 7. Northward, cruiser No. 8 and battle cruiser No. 9. Northeast, cruiser No. 10. East, battleship No. 11. Southeast, two cruisers, Nos. 12 and 13. Between cruiser No. 13 and the Sagitta was placed the battleship No. 14.

The considerations that had decided Evered in this disposition were to have a ring of ships with strength fairly distributed to meet the Sea Lion as she came out, for he was convinced that he would be able to drive her out, and so compel her, in spite of her speed, and in whatever direction she might make, to meet the close and direct fire of at least three or four of his squadron. Meanwhile he had two powerful battleships, one east and one west, where, from the contour of the ground, they could most effectively bombard her, although indirectly.

The positions being taken up, the first order was to destroy the radio installation and any other work visible on the island, whether apparently radio or not. The guns of the battleships and battle cruisers gave tongue and awoke the echoes of the island and an inlet that for thousands of years had lain a placid backwater of the world’s stage. It now became the center of man’s destructive forces. While this was in progress the Commodore was disappointed by the answer to a question he put to the seaplane observers. He learned that his first idea of sinking one of his ships to block the inlet would be ineffective through the depth of water.

The observers reported that all on the island appeared to have retired to their vessel. They also signaled the hits. Soon the wireless installation was a tangle of ruin. The Sea Lion made no reply or movement.

Commodore Evered was satisfied so far. He considered the rest could only be a matter of time, and that time was now not of the overwhelming importance it had been. He was rather disturbed by the absence of any response from the Sea Lion.

Suddenly the might of the Martians was made manifest. Two enormous columns of water and smoke rose from where a second before cruisers 7 and 8 had been, followed by two terrific reports. Both vessels were blown up at the same moment by some underwater agency, and sank almost instantly, as though their bottoms had been blown out. Nothing had been visible above water as the cause of the disaster. The fact of two explosions being simultaneous precluded the idea of a mine or an accident. The cause was obviously a double torpedo attack; but how had they been launched, and from where?

As the only opening to the inlet was to the south of the island, the cruisers to the north had appeared to be in a comparatively safe position. The high ridge opposite them had rendered them of little use in the bombardment, and it had occurred to the Commodore that they might have been of more use in strengthening the line on the other three sides.

A thrill of excitement passed through the squadron. The Martians possessed a submarine!

The Commodore placed his ships so as to encircle the island at a distance of five or six miles, with intervals of something over two miles between each two.

The Commodore now saw the task before him in its true proportions. He was fighting a foe of hidden and unknown powers. He remembered Professor Rudge’s warning.

Deciding that every other consideration must give way to the most effective bombardment of the Sea Lion, he now ordered battle cruiser No. 6 and the two cruisers Nos. 3 and 5 to join the battleship No. 4 west of the island, at a somewhat greater distance than before, and proceed with the bombardment of the enemy. He placed battle cruiser No. 9 and the two cruisers Nos. 10 and 12 east of the island with the battleship No. 11, with similar instructions.

As the two cruisers that had been torpedoed were struck simultaneously, it suggested to Evered that the underwater craft got between her intended victims and discharged her weapons at the same moment in opposite directions. As some protection again this he placed the ships, in each of the two groups, en échelon, and all the seaplanes were instructed to keep a special lookout for submarines.

The other three cruisers Nos. 2, 13 and the Sagitta herself, he retained south of the island, as some force for the purpose of interception should the Sea Lion emerge, and until the other warships could come up.

Under the bombardment so inaugurated, the Sea Lion must soon have suffered heavily had time been given. But that would be reckoning without the Martians.

In a few minutes one of the seaplanes reported that a large oval object like a gigantic turtle, of an estimated length of over 20 feet, was moving along the sea bottom just outside the entrance to the inlet, from which it seemed to have emerged. It was now making away in a SSW direction.

The seaplanes were ordered to attack it with bombs, but before any direct hit was made it had attained water of a depth sufficient to hide it from view. There was no reason to suppose that it was damaged.

Shortly afterwards it was reported that some damage to the upper works of the Sea Lion had been done. It could not be well ascertained if this was of a serious nature without a nearer approach, but the Commodore would not allow any plane to fly over the island or in its close vicinity except at a great height.

The Martians made no use of the small guns of the warship against the aircraft, nor any reply to the bombardment. Without aircraft to guide them, a hit on the warships would have been a matter of pure chance.

Shortly before 7 o’clock, however, there was a fresh development. A spherical ball, about three feet in diameter, of dull smoke color, rose from the Sea Lion perpendicularly until it was quite 500 feet above the vessel; then it moved off on a horizontal course in a westerly direction.

Its speed both in rising and subsequently was not that of a projectile. At the commencement of its lateral course it approximated to some 10 miles per hour. All eyes were fixed on it. What new manifestation of power did it indicate? It resembled a large, dark-colored, toy balloon. It had one peculiarity that differentiated it from anything of the kind that had ever been seen. It was obviously not carried along by the movement of the air after the manner of a balloon. It seemed to be impelled by some unseen force. It moved in a peculiar, jerky and jumpy manner, like the limbs of an automaton. What was the force controlling it? What was its sinister mission? The instinctive dread of the unknown was felt by all.

Its wobbly movement up and down and from side to side was persistent. Its oscillation from the direct path was sometimes several feet. These movements suggested that the ball was a heavy object pursuing some definite course.

If this were really so the mystery was heightened, as it would be acting in defiance of gravitation. Professor Rudge, had he been present, would not have been unduly surprised to learn that the Martians had mastered that problem, perhaps the greatest of those lying just outside the boundary of man’s present knowledge.

All eyes were turned on this strange object. In less than a minute it was noticed that its speed gradually increased, the wobbling continuing. When about five miles from the island its course deviated a little south of west, and its speed was now three to four times its initial rate.

For a moment it seemed to hesitate, then to make up its mind, and continued its jerky course in the direction of battleship No. 4. Rifles and quick-firing guns were turned against it, but without result.

It reached a point directly over the battleship. Suddenly it stopped as though gripped by some invisible force. The anti-gravitational action was withdrawn, and it fell, as a stone, on the vessel’s deck.

The result was an explosion of terrific violence. The battleship was rent to fragments by some new and terrible explosive. No portion of her crew was ever seen again.

The two nearest cruisers Nos. 5 and 3 were so seriously damaged that they had to draw out of the circling line, and were with difficulty kept afloat. All hands on their decks had been blown to pieces.

This mysterious ball had attracted every eye until it fell. On this the Martians had apparently counted, for they seized the opportunity to get out another of the curious slow-moving submarine objects out of the inlet. A glimpse of one just disappearing in the depths outside was caught by an airman, but too late to do anything.

Meanwhile, two more balls had risen, similar in size, appearance and movement to the first.

Captain Evered signaled that all ships should concentrate their fire on this menace of the air. Meanwhile, a fourth was rising.

A ball only one yard in diameter, high in the air, constantly wobbling to at least the extent of its own diameter, and proceeding with irregular, curving and constantly increasing movement, is no easy object to hit.

Just as the last ball had finished its perpendicular rise, it was hit, and immediately exploded. Fragments of the outer shell rained down upon and around the island for miles. Some fell on the ships, proving to be iron, about the thickness of boiler plate.

The other two balls found their goals. As they increased in speed and could turn in their course it became impossible to avoid them. Their line of motion could evidently be modified as desired, although always in a wobbling, hesitating way. It suggested that there was some one, somewhere, handling levers that decided their course, in accordance with the reports of some observer.

The battleship No. 14 and cruiser No. 12 were the victims. Their destruction was as complete as that of the first battleship.

Commodore Evered kept calm, but he found himself faced with possible defeat. He had lost seven ships in a few minutes. What further devilish contrivances had the Martians to hurl at him? He breathed a sigh of relief as minute after minute passed and no more balls rose. He ordered the two cruisers and the remaining battleships, east, to resume the bombardment of the Sea Lion, and the great battle cruiser No. 6, west, to do the same.

The moment after the order was given the battleship No. 9 was struck in the same way as the first two, followed a moment later by the cruiser No. 10. They settled down at once. In six or seven minutes they had both disappeared.

The situation appeared almost hopeless. No more balls were rising, but Evered remembered that there was yet certainly one more of the submarine things still unused outside the island, and it was obvious that it was from these that the double torpedo attacks were made. His impression of the method of the double torpedo discharge was now confirmed.

The airmen reported that the Sea Lion was being repeatedly hit, and that her position must be anything but comfortable.

The bombardment continued from the two powerful ships that were left, one east, one west, and Evered was about to take the desperate course of ordering the smaller of the cruisers left him, No. 2, to sink herself in the entrance to the inlet, in the forlorn hope of imprisoning the Sea Lion, notwithstanding the report of the airmen, until help should arrive. But it was too late. The airmen reported the Sea Lion moving. Finding that she was being badly mauled in a position where she could not make efficient reply with her own guns, or considering that the havoc she had wrought outside now made her chances good, she had decided to come out.

At the best pace at which the turn could be safely negotiated, she emerged, a target for those of her enemies who could now bring their direct fire to bear. These were, to begin with, the Sagitta and the two cruisers Nos. 2 and 13 of the original line.

Realizing that when coming out he would be for the moment at a disadvantage, the Martian commander had planned a diversion. The third of the underwater craft now fired her torpedoes. A bright object in the water was seen to flash past the Sagitta, and at the same moment an explosion amidships of cruiser No. 15 almost blew that vessel out of the water. She sank at once.

Immediately on receiving news that the Sea Lion was coming out, the Commodore had signaled the battleship and battle cruiser to come up with every ounce of steam. Their guns were soon centered on the Sea Lion, and as soon as the latter was clear of the turn, her guns began to thunder their reply, while she made a southwesterly course, at her utmost speed.

Her direction took her very near the small cruiser No. 2, and that unfortunate vessel received the full weight of the Sea Lion’s metal as she passed. She was reduced to a flaming and sinking wreck.

The Sagitta’s escape from the torpedo that had been aimed at her had been doubtless in consequence of the fact that she was in the act of turning as quickly as possible, to keep ahead of the Sea Lion in the direction she was going.

They were both now going southwest. Speed was the only thing they had in common and in which they were about equal, for in size, armor and gun power there was no comparison.

The only two ships remaining that could hope to fight the Sea Lion, one battleship and one battle cruiser, were far astern, and further every minute, for neither had the speed of the escaping vessel.

Sailing a parallel course, the Sagitta had the Sea Lion astern, somewhat to starboard. The Sagitta could have received the same treatment as the last cruiser that had gone down, but the Sea Lion, ignoring her, turned her great weapons on her two formidable pursuers. Their smokestacks showed that stokehold and engine room were doing their utmost. Their “black squads” were sweating at their furnaces, but the fact remained that they were being left. Nothing short of a lucky shot could have prevented the Martian from achieving his object.

The momentary relief that the Commodore had felt when it first appeared that his enemy had no more devilish novelties to surprise him with, gave way to gloom as he watched the widening distance between pursuers and pursued.

For a moment he saw himself a beaten man. But not yet! For then was the situation saved by the quality that always distinguished Evered—quick and fearless decision. Then was justified his main reason for staying on the Sagitta, where the discipline of years and the thorough knowledge of his captain that each member of his crew possessed, ensured that any order he gave, however unprecedented or incomprehensible, would be obeyed, and promptly.

He decided on a desperate venture. He saw that the Sea Lion, confident that the Sagitta could be blasted out of existence in two minutes at any time when her two great pursuers had been effectually shaken off, was giving the latter her whole attention. He deflected his course slightly, so as to make it converge a little on that of the Sea Lion. He himself took the helm and gave the order, “Every man on board save three stokers and the chief engineer is to take a life belt and go on deck.”

The officers receiving the order, thought him mad, but they had seen so many strange things this last hour that without hesitation they saw it done. When all the men were on deck he addressed his officers:

“I am going to take the Sagitta across the Sea Lion’s bows,” he said—“if I can. Explain to the men. Every man on board, yourself included, is to throw himself overboard at the word. I remain in the conning tower. Now go on deck and see that all go over at my signal. Send me the chief engineer.”

A minute later, alone with the latter, he said, “Thompson, get five life belts handy. You and I and the three men below go together. Be sure you jump when I jump. Slow down a little. I want the Sea Lion to creep up.”

The Sagitta’s speed was let down a couple of knots. The Commodore, with his hand on the conning tower wheel, stood motionless. He watched the Sea Lion. She was engaged in a strenuous fight with her two powerful opponents. If the commander of the Sea Lion read the position respecting himself merely as indicating that the Sea Lion was the faster boat, all would be well, but if he suspected, and brought his heavy guns to bear, blowing the Sagitta out of the water before the object was attained, then all was lost.

The fate of the world hung upon that if.

Slowly, and steadily, he was being overtaken. The tension was terrible. Nerves of steel were wanted, and were not lacking.

The moment arrived. The signal to the deck was given, and obeyed with one splash. The order had been held back to the last possible second, and it was well.

“Full speed ahead,” he signalled, and his secret was given away. The Sagitta, well named “the Arrow,” leapt like a greyhound from the leash.

The Commodore set his teeth at what he saw. It was a question of a second or two.

The great guns of the Sea Lion, now so close upon him, for a moment ceased their thunder. Their smoking muzzles were coming round. He knew what to expect.

But his moment had also come. He put his helm to port; not so hard as to stop her way, but at the speed she was going its influence was enormous. She came round like a top. The Sea Lion evidently ported her helm too, but that long and heavy vessel had nothing like the handiness of the Sagitta. She could not answer before the crash was inevitable.

The Commodore had at the same moment signaled “all hands on deck,” and as this had been awaited, the five men took the water together. A few seconds later, and at the instant judged to a nicety by the Commodore, the Sea Lion crashed into the side of the doomed cruiser.

The Sagitta was nearly cut in two. No more would the clean lines of this arrow of the seas skim their surface, but in the moment when she sacrificed all her grace and beauty, she did a greater service to the world than her life could ever have accomplished.

She clung to the bows of her enemy as if conscious of her mission.

The battle cruiser was fast coming up, and a few miles in her rear, the battleship. Flight was out of the question, and the Sea Lion determined to fight. Backing, she succeeded in disembarrassing herself of the wreck of the Sagitta, and turned on her approaching antagonists. Meanwhile she was herself taking ever increasing punishment as the distance diminished.

The concentrated fire of the Sea Lion was terrific. Her ten 12-inch guns were still undamaged. Her crew worked them like fiends. Partly in consequence of the more rapid handling of the machinery of loading, but principally because every shot without exception scored a hit on some vital spot of her antagonist, her fire was at least trebled in effectiveness.

Under this withering treatment no vessel could stand up long, but the commander of the Sea Lion knew that her own sands were running out.

It was evidently her aim, with a fury of bombardment, to sink these formidable enemies. Soon she had the battle cruiser out of action, in a sinking condition. Thus she had reduced her fourteen enemies to one, and the battle to a duel. In achieving this, however, she herself had suffered terribly. Her main battery was now reduced to one gun still workable; she was aflame from end to end, as it seemed, from bridge to keel.

But her one gun was promptly turned upon her remaining enemy, the Japanese battleship, and worked with absolute precision. Suddenly she turned towards her foe. This maneuver had apparently not been expected on board the Japanese battleship, and had the Sea Lion responded quickly, a collision would have been inevitable. It was almost a miracle that the Sea Lion could be handled at all.

The Commodore, treading water, saw the import of the Martian’s maneuver. If she rammed the Japanese ship and even one of her demon crew got on board, the fight would be lost.

But that crowning catastrophe was not to be. A lucky shot went through the gaping bows of the Sea Lion and exploded her magazine. That finished her.

A damaged battleship and two derelict cruisers were all that remained of the fleet that so short a time before had surrounded the island, almost ashamed of its strength.

But there was another arrival. Unseen by any, none having eyes for anything but the drama being enacted before them, another cruiser of medium size, and flying the German flag, had come up in time to witness the final scene and the awful act that followed, the shooting of the struggling wretches left of the Sea Lion’s crew.

With the outward appearance of humanity, and acting the part to perfection, with piteous cries and arms outstretched in supplication, they made the work hard to accomplish; but it was done.

One man alone appeared unmoved by it—the captain of the newcomer. Turning to him who stood beside him, he said, “That Japaner knows his business. When your enemy is down, hammer him. That is war!”

“In this case it is necessary,” replied Professor Rudge coldly. “Will you, Herr Captain, do what you can to save the men of our side, now drowning?”

Of the two cruisers that had been damaged in the blowing up of the battleship west of the island, there had remained undamaged three boats, and these had during the fight done good salvage work among the floating men from the cruisers north of the island. Many more were now rescued, including the Commodore and his crew, all save two that had been caught by the Sagitta’s screws through jumping over incautiously.

But it had been a sanguinary action. Of nearly 10,000 men, less than half now remained.

When all the survivors had been rescued, the Commodore signalled from the Japanese vessel to ask Professor Rudge to come aboard.

When Professor Rudge reached the deck of the battleship it presented the appearance of a gigantic scrapheap. Steel and iron lay everywhere, torn and twisted into fantastical shapes. He gripped Evered’s hand, and warmly congratulated him upon his victory.

“I don’t feel like being congratulated,” said the Commodore sadly. “I went into the fight with overwhelming odds, and the cost has been too terrible.”

“The odds,” said the Professor, “were never in your favor. You contended with the unknown.”

“And still do, I fear. That is why I wanted to speak to you while we have a short hour of daylight left. When it’s a question of the unknown, as you call it, you can probe it further than I can.”

“You do not consider the fight over?” asked the Professor.

Commodore Evered then gave a short account of what had happened, specially emphasizing the fact that the Martian submarine craft were still unaccounted for.

“You are right,” said Professor Rudge, when he had heard him; “the last of the invaders is not killed. How unfortunate I was not a couple of hours earlier!”

“Something should have been done differently?”

“No, no,” was the hasty reply; “I did not mean that at all. My regret is that I missed seeing the aerial bombs.”

“They were terrible,” said the Commodore. “There was no fighting against them. Our success is simply because they hadn’t more of them.”

“You see, Evered,” said the Professor, the fight having for the moment taken second place in his thoughts, “they prove that the Martians have solved the problem of that force which more completely than any other baffles our imagination—gravitation; not only solved, but that they can handle and employ it.”

“They were efficient weapons,” said Commodore Evered, his attention fixed on the fight.

“When man has solved that,” said the Professor, his mind still on the scientific problem, “his science will have rendered war impossible, if his moral judgment has not already done so.”

“No doubt,” said the Commodore, his mind on the surviving Martians in the submarines. The balls were finished; the other weapon, perhaps not. “How,” he added, “shall we deal with the submarines?”

“Any danger we have,” said Rudge, “is, I think, a question of the depth of water surrounding the island. How do we stand respecting that?”

“We are on the northern rim of the Tuscarora basin. South, east and west, we are in great depths at once. Even to the north we get 1,000 fathoms between us and the nearest land.”

“Then,” said Professor Rudge, “we have them. It is practically certain these are hastily made things, capable of crawling along the bottom, rising and possibly able to direct their movements to some extent then, to be used as mere points d’appui for the two weapons each discharged.”

“But how are we to catch them?”

“By waiting and watching. They are confined to the neighbourhood of the island, and must come up not unfrequently for air.”

“Then,” said the Commodore, “it is a work principally for the airmen.”

He gave instructions for the seaplanes to keep a keen lookout around the island until too dark for observation, and to drop depth charges when sure of their mark.

The German captain was ordered to make for the nearest point where the good news could be given to the world. This he at once did.

The Commodore then ordered the damaged cruisers under no circumstances to beach themselves during the night, whatever the difficulty in keeping afloat, but to sink rather than approach the island.

Searchlights and star shells lent to the short night almost the light of day. It was decided to deal with the submarines before searching the island.

At dawn the seaplanes were up again, circling round the island. It was 8 o’clock when two submarines were observed crawling toward the shoaling water near the eastern end of the island. A moment afterwards a third was seen. The Martians probably knew that their position was hopeless, and they were making for the island as a mere alternative to being suffocated.

They were observed to dive out from under their vessels, but before ever they reached, the surface they were bombed and destroyed. There was but one Martian in each. The vessels themselves were, as Professor Rudge had anticipated, of simple construction, not enclosed, but constructed on the diving bell principle.

The rest of the day was devoted to searching the island and making certain that nothing was left alive there as big as a rat.

“And now,” said Commodore Evered, as the island was left astern at the pace of the two lame ducks, “only the shouting remains!”

The homecoming of Professor Rudge and Commodore Evered was historic. The demonstrations of gratitude and enthusiasm were energized by the tremendous reaction after the torturing days of suspense.

Professor Rudge had himself experienced how great can be the force of reaction. On the evening of that great day in the North Pacific he almost collapsed. A load that had pressed heavily and long then rolled from his shoulders. He could look indulgently upon the scenes of “carnival” that celebrated, first the great news, and later the return of the men who had saved humanity from the most awful danger that had ever threatened it.

Joy bells rang and Te Deums were sung throughout all Christendom, and, with the votive offerings made on as many shrines outside it, expressed a world’s thanks for its deliverance.

Honors were heaped on the two chief heroes of the occasion, and Dr. Anderson was not forgotten. Commodore Evered received the K.C.M.G., V.C. and D.S.O., and was promoted to be Admiral for his “splendid initiative and distinguished service.” Never had there been so popular a promotion.

“There you have the whole reason of it in fact,” said Admiral Benson. He remained a disgruntled man. His attitude becoming known, made him so unpopular that he had to resign. His last words on retiring were that whatever might be said about “distinguished service,” “splendid initiative” was more than he could stand in view of the number of men that had been shot for less.

No one man could have staggered under the weight of the Orders, Crosses, Stars, Medals, and Degrees that showered on Sir Stanley Rudge. He accepted it all gracefully. Such things left him unmoved.

Even before his landing, his mind seemed to be running on other things. He had fits of introspection, and what he saw surprised him, and the first impulse was to resist. But it has been well said that if one kicks Nature out by the door she comes in by the window. There are some toils in which man struggles in vain. Professor Rudge was in love.

It was not long before May Treherne knew, before a word was spoken, that she was destined to be Lady Rudge.

No one could have been less surprised than Professor McFaden, when he was told of the engagement.

“Quos deus vult—” said the old cynic; but he did not mean it. There were, in fact, no more genuinely sincere congratulations than his.

“I never knew,” said May one day, mischievously, during their short engagement, “that professors could ever fall in love!”

“Why not?” asked Rudge.

“I always thought they were much too wise,” she said.

“True wisdom,” he replied, “is to be happy, but few have such wisdom.”